Thief
by Culhilien
Summary: A young thief, stubborn and proud gets tangled up in the fate of the Fellowship of the Ring.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter One

Serafina woke with a jolt. The young thief looked around her surroundings suspiciously and frowned—once again she managed to get caught on the job. She knew where she was, the cell in the basement of the Village Watch quarters. The thief smiled to herself when she saw the guard who was supposed to be ensuring she would not escape this time—he was snoring. Judging from the empty bottle in his hand he had drunk himself to oblivion.

Slightly pleased that she was relatively uninjured—excluding the lump on the back of her head, Serafina decided it was time to escape. Raised in the slums of Gondor and being capable of escaping Gondorian guards and their prisons, this little Village Watch in Bree was a mere hiccough in her routine. However, Serafina knew that all hope of completing the job was beyond her now, they would be watching. 'Perhaps' she thought to herself, 'perhaps, it is time to move on'. Being as impulsive as she was, she knew she would leave the village of Bree behind before the week died.

Pulling some pins from her hair, Serafina swiftly picked the lock, removed the keys from the sleeping guards belt, creped through the Village Watch quarters and slipped unseen into the night.

…………………………

Once in the main street of Bree, the thief frowned again. There was something not right about the night. However unsettled the night made her, Serafina drew comfort from the rain—she was less likely to be recognised due to the reduced visibility the downpour had awarded. Turning into the dark alley that she had slept in the night before, she ran quickly to the bin she had stowed her rucksack in.

"Leaving so soon?" came a low voice behind her.

Serafina cursed her carelessness as she outweighed her options. There did not seem to be many to weigh. Tuning to face the ringleader of the band of criminals she had been working for, Garth, Serafina found it difficult to keep a smooth face.

"Yes, you see I thought it best." She replied tartly.

"Oh you did, did you?"

"Yes"

"I do not concur with you decision. Because the way I see it, you failed."

Serafina was scared, this rouge was someone she doubted the Gods would be quick to anger, but she knew she didn't get to where she was today by quailing in his face, or the face of anyone she had worked for and failed. Mentally squaring her shoulders she turned her back on him to pick up her rucksack. She wasn't stupid, turning your back on this man was definitely not the most desirable course of action but it showed Garth she wasn't afraid of him, it conveyed she had nothing to hide, no reason to fear him—all of it lies.

When she was facing him again she saw him smiling. She would rather see him glowering.

"Did I do something to amuse you? Perhaps I should give up thieving and become a court jester? Do you think?"

"No I do not think you should be a jester, no court would have you. Although Lady, you amuse me." He paused his eyes holding the mirth. Serafina braced herself, "You have completed far more complex jobs for me and my tardy bunch, and yet this was a simple robbery, you were given the times the owners would be absent, and offered a more then generous reward…still you were caught. Now pardon me my lady, I've never been one for numbers and such but that doesn't add up."

The wheels in Serafina's head spun. Garth didn't waste time stating the obvious, nor dwelling on what happened but on what happens next, so why was he wasting his time telling her this? Unless…

"You set me up." Serafina stated through gritted teeth.

"Yes, yes I did." Garth said chuckling. "But then you outsmarted me. You escaped."

Garth was no longer chuckling. Serafina was growing confident, it had seemed she'd got the better of him.

"Well then it looks like I've won…don't it?" Garth chuckled again and Serafina's confidence waned. "You've known me a long time Garth, I know how to escape capture, I've known it since Gondor. It's the best backup plan I've ever had. What did you think I wouldn't have a backup plan?" the girl's confidence was restored, she even considered she might live to see the morning. Garth looked down the alleyway and smiled.

"I see." Garth said smiling, no grinning. He was grinning.

Serafina looked in the direction he had just before. Through the rain and mist she could make out a mob of large men walking slowly towards them.

"Are they…?" She asked quivering.

"Thugs? Oh yes they are thugs. A few of them are assassins you know, just my tardy bunch." He smiled maliciously at her face: she was scared. "What did you think I wouldn't have a backup plan?"

Realisation dawned. Serafina swore loudly at Garth and bolted. Before she turned the corner she heard his laughter, cold and cruel.

…………………………

Mind, heart and feet racing, Serafina flew through the village of Bree. She knew she could move quicker than a bunch of ten or so men, and she used it to her advantage. Thinking fast she knew the gates to the village would be closed, and there was no way she could sleep in the street, not if she wanted to wake up in the morning anyway. Her best bet was an inn.

She realised she was thinking too much when she tripped over the handle of a wagon lying abandoned in the road. Picking herself out of the mud she tasted blood in her mouth. She wasn't concerned about the split lip. However there was a stinging pain in her side glancing down at the wagon she saw she fell on a broken handle with splinters protruding that now carried her blood. Cursing lightly as not to draw attention to herself she began to jog towards the crowds of people she knew would be in the next street. Rounding the corner she slowed her jog to a walk, this was a far cleaner part of town, and although there were still scoundrels in this area Serafina did not want to get caught for simply looking suspicious. Pulling a clean cloak from her rucksack, Serafina used it to cover not only her identity, but also her wound and muddy clothing. Glancing around quickly to make sure she was not being followed she stepped into the best inn in town: The Prancing Pony.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

The inn was crowded. There were men everywhere and not a small amount of hobbits either. Spotting a well-groomed man who was very clearly drunk she moved closer. Happy that something was going right this evening she eyed his coin purse hanging from the back of his belt to the right. Ignoring her seething side she strode confidently to his right-hand side.

"Excuse me sir?" She asked as politely as possible removing her hood. "Might I enquire your name?"

"The name's Clancy girl." He slurred. Serafina noticed the gold band on his left finger and smiled. Laying her right hand on his arm and moving her left towards his coin purse.

"Oh, thank goodness. Your wife sent me to find you, she is most distressed."

"Oh? Now I don't know why she should be distressed. I done told her I'd be out, here I might add, 'til later this evenin'." he hiccoughed as if to validate his point, evidently confused. 'Just a little longer' she thought. Serafina nearly had all the money she needed.

"I am sorry sir." Serafina said looking quite miffed. "Is your wife's name Gladys?"

"No. She, her name is Mary." He said, struggling to put together a sentence.

"My mistake my good man, I'm afraid I have made a fool out of myself. I am sorry to have disturbed you."

"Not a problem lass, not a pro-hic-blem"

Tuning away from him she normally would have felt extremely triumphant, but she had bigger problems. The blood from her wound was starting to seep through her cloak. She would need to attend to it soon; ignoring the pain would only get you so far.

She paid for a room for the night earning a suspicious look from fat Butterbur, but Serafina knew he wouldn't challenge her, who was he to deny a paying customer?

Serafina made her way quickly to her room—after declining supper and drinks. She walked up the small steps into her room. There was one large bed in the centre, candles by the window and a chair. She lit the candles then sat on the bed and contemplated how to treat her injury.

She had just removed her cloak and tunic when there was a loud bang on the door grabbing her daggers she hid in the shadows of the room. The door burst open, steadying herself to fight she stopped herself when she saw her company. A tall man in a cloak carried in a hobbit, not quite the thugs she was expecting. She prayed they would quickly realise this was not their room, not notice her bloody clothes lying on the bed, and leave.

Instead of complying with her prayers the two were rather intent on their conversation. She added to her prayer that they would not notice her, she did not know how kindly they would take to a wounded, shirtless, female thief listening in on their all important conversation.

"What do you want?" the hobbit cried.

"A little more caution from you, that is no trinket you carry." The tall man said as he threw back the hood to his cloak, even in her state she had to admit he was ruggedly handsome.

"I carry nothing." Rebuked the hobbit, Serafina knew he was lying she could see it in his defensive stance and the tone of his voice. Apparently so could the man.

"Indeed. I can avoid being seen if I wish. But to disappear entirely, that is a rare gift." Commented the man as he put out the candles Serafina had lit moments before and took off his boots. Serafina was now confused and annoyed; she failed to see what disappearing acts had to do with jewellery and she most definitely did not want this mans boots lying around the room she had paid for. She drew in a sharp breath as quietly as she could, her wounded stomach was stinging even more than before now that it was in the open air. It was bleeding freely she could not even staunch the flow with her hand for she was gripping her daggers as if her very life depended in it.

"Who are you?" asked the hobbit.

"Are you frightened?" questioned the man

"Yes." Came the reluctant reply.

"Not nearly frightened enough. I know what hunts you." Serafina decided it was probably time to pray harder before she bled to death but her prayers were interrupted by another intrusion. The door burst open to reveal three more hobbits, all carrying everyday objects obviously intending to inflict harm with them. The hobbit in the lead, which was the fattest of them all by far, was the one who spoke;

"Let him go, or I'll have you, Longshanks!" the man had drawn his sword but sheathed it again when he saw it was more hobbits.

"You have a stout heart, little Hobbit. But that will not save you. You can no longer wait for the wizard, Frodo. They're coming." Said the man. The thief in the corner knew she had to do something but—

"Who's bleeding?" came the cry from one of the hobbits, the skinny one that came in with a chair. Serafina cursed under her breath and sighed out loud; if she had had a better day and was not bleeding she was sure she would have found the situation far more amusing.

"That would be me." She said walking out of the corner. She was wearing a breast-band and her breeches and boots, and while her long brown hair hung in loose wavy curls past her shoulders, it was not long enough to cover her completely. "That is my shirt covered in blood there, along with my cloak, and rucksack on my bed, in the room I paid for. Which means I shall have to ask you all to leave so that I may stitch my stomach back together again."

The hobbits gawped. The man however, looked angry.

"This is not your room I booked it earlier this evening. I have the key."

"How can you have the key? I have the key." Serafina replied outraged, this had not been a good day. "It's in my cloak in one of the pockets."

The hobbit called Frodo walked over to Serafina's cloak and before long pulled out the key. He then passed the cloak to the girl.

"Thankyou" she said as she draped it gingerly over herself and sheathed her daggers.

"I shall go and speak with Butterbur," said the man "he will find you another room."

Serafina shook her head at this. "No, don't tell Butterbur, for that will require me to wait in the common room until he has one prepared. I cannot wait in the common room."

The man gave her a quizzical look. So she answered "There are a few people in this village whom I would not wish to see me, from what I hear you are running from something as well, therefore you will understand my hesitation."

The man paused, and then said, "Why did you hide when we came in then? Did you think we were the people looking for you?"

"I had no reason to suspect you were not."

"And when you realised we were not in fact those who hunt you…?"

"I simply hoped you would have your dispute about invisibility and jewellery then leave. I have not had the most wonderful day, please, as you would not go before, go now." It was not a rude statement, more of a plea.

"How much longer can you wait for that to be treated?" he asked abruptly inclining his head to indicate her stomach.

"I will not die from it" came the sharp reply.

"I have something to attend to, and it will not take long. Do you know how to wield those daggers of yours?" he asked, and the thief nodded. "Very well." He handed a knife of his own to the fat hobbit. "If she tries anything." He said looking meaningfully at the hobbit. He then looked up at the girl, "I will be gone a quarter of an hour at the most. If anything befalls any of these hobbits I swear to you I will find whoever is hunting you and lead them to you. If I come back and they are unharmed I will tend your wounds and your can stay here the night. Are we clear?" his grey eyes glared into Serafina's green one's. She nodded in consent.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three

The man left the room abruptly. Serafina noted that the room looked a lot larger now that he had vacated it. Looking at the four hobbits around her sighed and wondered where they would all sleep. She was pulled out of her reverie by a hand pushing on her leg.

"I don't believe I caught your name miss…" said the hobbit. Serafina noted it was the same that had noticed her bloody clothes lying on the bead.

"My name is Serafina little hobbit. What is yours?" She asked politely. She was quite relieved that she did not have to try and outsmart these little people; Serafina had had enough for the day.

"I am Peregrin Took, and this is my kinsman Meriadoc Brandybuck."

"How do you do" Meriadoc said courteously as he inclined his head. "You can call me Merry" he said with a smile, "just about everyone does."

"Yeah and everyone calls me Pippin." Said the enthusiastic young hobbit.

"Well I know Frodo" Serafina said also with a smile, at Frodo's enquiring glance she added, "I heard the man say it. Which leaves you." She said smiling at the fat hobbit.

He didn't answer.

"This is Samwise Gamgee. The best gardener in all of the shire, even if I am a bit biased." Said Frodo with fierce pride and a smile. It was the first smile she had seen Frodo give, and she had yet to see Samwise smile.

"You can call him Sam, everyone does" Pippin piped up, "but I'm afraid you'll have to call Frodo, Frodo. He doesn't have a nickname. Do you?"

"Pippin!" Merry exclaimed and whacked him over the head.

Serafina laughed, and then regretted it. She thought maybe there were some splinters in her wound. She smiled at the hobbits none the less and curtsied saying "I am very pleased indeed to have met you all."

…………………………

True to his word it was not long before the man returned. He promptly reclaimed his knife from Sam and turned to Serafina who was siting on the bed talking to Merry and Pippin while Frodo and Sam were by the window talking in hushed tones.

"You may stay the night." He said to her solemnly.

"I thank you stranger." She paused, "What should I call you?"

"Strider will do." Serafina raised her eyebrows at this but did not question the false name.

"And you may call me Serafina, however I am leaving this place in the morning and it would serve you well not to mention my name to anyone upon your stay."

"That does not bode well with me. Is the whole village hunting you? What sort of a person did I leave in care these hobbits?"

"Perhaps when you can trust me with something as insignificant as you name, I will trust you with the insignificant details of my life that you question." Serafina was tiring of this verbal sparring. "You promised me you would see to my wound. I ask that you do it sooner rather then later as it is quite uncomfortable."

"Very well." He said simply and motioned for her to lie on the bed.

……………………

Once she was all stitched up and fully dressed the four hobbits took their places in the bed and Strider in the chair, leaving Serafina to find the most comfortable patch of floor. She did not complain but went and sat against the door to be both a sentry and a draught stopper.

Sometime after midnight haunting cries woke Serafina. She sat up and walked quietly to the window and stood next to Strider.

"Nazgul." She said it was not a question. The man looked up at her and nodded.

"How do you recognise their cries?" he asked her in a hushed voice.

"I lived in Gondor until I was 12. I have never heard one before, but I was raised with enough stories of them to recognise one when I heard it. Every child in Gondor is told stories of the Nazgul. I had hoped they were just that; stories."

"Many things we hope to be stories are in fact true." He answered, voice melancholy.

"Yes, I guess you are right." She stated simply before taking her place back in front of the door. She listened quietly to Strider explaining the story of the Wraiths to the hobbits and shivered.

It had been a very long day.


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: don't own LOTR, wish i did.

Chapter Four

For the third time in a row, Serafina was woken suddenly, though it was not a guard's snore, nor a Nazgul's cry but a stern rapping on the door. She stood up groggily trying desperately to focus on what the obviously angry man on the other side of the door was trying to say.

"In the name of the Village Watch: open this door!"

Serafina gasped audibly and Strider reached for the door handle. "Stop!" she whispered to him urgently, "Please, you must understand, let me go first."

Suddenly wide-awake, the thief sprung into action crossing the room in a frenzy, Serafina grabbed her belongings and opened the window. She appraised the distance as carefully as possible in seconds. The thief noticed some hay bales lay almost directly under the widow. 'The stables must not be far' she thought with excitement a plan forming quickly in her mind. Serafina turned her head to look at Strider for a moment. She cast him a brilliant grin and jumped out of the window.

………………………

The ranger shook his head; he did not know what to make of such a girl. Wiping the chuckle from his face he opened the door, somehow he knew she would be all right.

The Village Watch was a hassle Strider could have done without, yet they were fools and none too difficult to deceive.

Closing the door behind them Strider set about waking the hobbits. They were going to need as good a head start as he could give them from the Nazgul.

………………………

She landed on the hay bales with a soft thud. Serafina was thankful that it was so early and the streets were empty; she did not need this to get complicated. Quickly she retreated away from the window in case Strider gave her away. She smiled, it was just past dawn—the gates would be open.

Serafina quickly located the stables and sent up a thankyou prayer to anyone listening for there was no one blocking her path. However when she was inside she found the doors to each stall kicked down. There was hay everywhere and it was completely abandoned.

The wheels in her head were turning furiously trying to figure out where all the horses had gone. Then she remembered, the Nazgul. The horses would have fled in terror, not that she blamed them. Her curious mind wanted to try and puzzle out why the Nazgul had been here last night, but realising her current situation Serafina decided that her curiosity would have to be satisfied some other day.

She had to leave, and leave quickly. No one would be able to stop her if she was riding through the city and out the gate. But walking they would surely catch her. Deciding whatever she would do she had to keep moving Serafina took leave of the ruined stables and jogged silently through the quiet town.

The thief approached the gate to the city with caution, and rightly so. Guarding the gate was five men of the Village Watch, in addition to the gate warden. She sighed heavily from her hiding place and eyed them appraisingly. With regret she knew that if she had a horse she would have galloped through them.She rebuked herself fordwelling on something that was not going to happen. So she started working through other scenarios through her sharp mind.

After dismissing the idea of charming or fighting her way out she came to the conclusion that she could not confront them in anyway and expect to leave with the upper hand. She stole away from the gate to a part of the city wall where they could not see her. She had ideas of busting her way out with a hammer or digging out yet she dismissed them all as impractical and childish. Then she came across a tree by the wall. It was a long shot and she knew it but time was running out, as were her options. Eyeing the tree warily she began to climb, rucksack securely slung over her shoulders.

It wasn't a hard climb, but Serafina had never been one for trees. Windows were fine, buildings too, but trees were not her favourite. However her life had never allowed her the option of choice, Serafina did things because she had to, and this was one such occasion. She crouched on a sturdy limb and crawled towards the wall, behind her the town of Bree was stirring. She hardened her resolve and crawled the last meter that would have her hanging over the other side of the wall.

She was close now; freedom from those that chased her was almost tangible. Taking a breath she imagined she was jumping from a window and let go. She hit the ground and rolled, avoiding injury. Serafina straightened and surveyed her new freedom. To her left a little was she saw the East-West Road, thinking it was as good a road as any she set off parallel to it, intending to only walk on the road when the village of Bree with its thugs, Village Watch and Nazgul were far behind.

………………………

Around midday on her second day of travelling Serafina stopped by a lake just off the road. She laughed when she saw a few horses by the lake. Undoubtedly these were the horse that had fled Bree in terror the night before she'd left. She was discouraged by the fact that they were unbridled and unsaddled, she had ridden horses before bareback, but that was a bit like trees; only if she had to. Frowning at the choices, or lack of, she was forced to make Serafina dug into her rucksack and pulled out an apple.

Cutting it in half with one of her daggers she ate half and approach one of the smaller horses holding out the apple half. The horse took it after a quick sniff and munched away.

Patting him reassuringly she moved to his side and grabbed a fistful of mane. Swinging herself up awkwardly she fumbled around for a few minutes trying to get the hang of steering. Smiling stupidly to herself when she mastered turning the horse towards the road she set out again, deciding to follow the road wherever it lead.

* * *

hi guys, i hope u all like it so far and feel free 2 review... ; ) and to my 1 reviewer thankyou thankyou

im sorry if it seems a but slow 2 start...it'll pick up soon...and i promise legolas will feature... stupid smile>

i did proof the last chapters but i think i forgot to save the changes...oops


	5. Chapter 5

Hey all! Wow I am amazed that people are actually reading this. I apologise again for my spelling mistakes…makes me feel quite stupid really.

And I must thank my reviewers…u guys r awesome! I'm really glad u like it, I noticed a most of u said it was different - that means a lot cause that's the way I was heading. But I have a favour to ask—Pick one Legolas or Aragorn…I know I know I know how horrid of me to consider Aragorn, how could I do that 2 Arwen…but I need to make a decision before I start writing Legolas in and before I bring back the hunky king of Gondor. I don't want it 2 turn into a sappy romance, but Serafina wont let me do it…so don't worry. (Alenor Peredhel-how could I not let them meet again…she grinned at him before she jumped…that's a sure sign! ; )

I hope u enjoy.

Chapter Five

The thief was glowering; indeed her mood was not the best. She had been following the East-West Road for a couple of days. She had barely slept, the Nazgul cries could be thanked solely for that. However it being midday she was beyond scared, the Nazgul were far behind and she was bathed in sunshine, no she wasn't scared she was perplexed and angry.

She had worked over the night the Nazgul had been in Bree numerous times, and still could not fit together the pieces. The Black Riders were out of Mordor, that was bad enough news in itself. But what in Eru's name were they doing this far north? What had attracted them to the rather pathetic village of Bree? Sure it had some scum in the village but nothing that warranted the attention of Mordor. Serafina cursed herself for not being more observant. She should have listened harder to that Strider. Perhaps she should have questioned him, and prodded some answers out of him.

She was missing something, and she knew it. She thought about the bizarre conversation he and the hobbit had had while she was bleeding in the corner. What in Middle-Earth did trinkets have to do with disappearing acts? She wondered who could have been chasing them. Who would chase hobbits? They were the most harmless race she knew, she could not imaging them being caught up with anything against the law. But the man…Strider, he was another kettle of fish, a whole different ball game. He had secrets, he was capable of more than he was letting on, and Serafina could see that.

And then there was how protective Strider had been of the hobbits; as if they were imperative to everything he stood for. The thief sighed. This was one riddle that she could not solve, well two riddles: that of the Nazgul in Bree and the man with four hobbits, jewellery and a fetish for invisibility. She wondered if the two could be connected, then dismissed the thought as quickly as it came for Nazgul do not chase hobbits and men with strange fetishes.

…………………………

As night approached her mood swung from ill tempered to petrified. The cries of the Wraiths were closer tonight and Serafina did not like the look of her daggers against one Nazgul, let alone however many of the nine were behind her.

She had rested earlier that afternoon, and was glad she did so, for Serafina intended to push her poor horse as far and as fast as she could without falling off.

For the thousandth time she wished she had not messed up so badly. If she had been paying attention after breaking out of her cell she may have avoided Garth and his thugs, leaving her free to at least half plan where she was heading. A map surely would not go astray. Berating herself mentally Serafina pushed on, fleeing the Nazgul's cries, they were particularly worked up tonight. Something had either gone terribly wrong or horribly right.

………………………….

Dawn approached and Serafina's mind eased. Though her pace did not. She pitied her horse, but he did not seem to mind, apparently he was as keen as her to put as much distance between himself and the Nazgul as possible.

Ahead of her was a bridge. She watched as it came closer to her from the horizon. She thought about stopping at the river to let her run-down horse drink, and herself too, but she found after many attempts of trying to stop her horse that she could not. She didn't believe it; she was on a mad horse, bareback with no way of controlling it. She wondered how incredibly boring it would be to not be her, if it was not thugs, dangerous wagons waiting in the streets to hurt her, or trees, it was wild horses, strange men and Nazgul. How did they all cope with such placid lives?

She gritted her teeth and cursed the stupid horse. She pulled its head as hard as she could to the right so that they would avoid the bridge and force the horse to stop before running into the river. Serafina wasn't a strong girl, but by some strange twist of fate she managed to turn his head ever so slightly to the side hoping it would be enough to put him of course.

It worked. Well it sort of worked.

Serafina was saturated, and so was the horse. The dumb beast had galloped full bore into the river.

"You dumb arse!" she yelled at the horse, the water was freezing and the horse was shocked. They had made it three quarters of the way across the river before the horse's momentum had slowed then stopped. Serafina grabbed a handful of his mane and heaved him up out of the water after her. Like normal the horse didn't need much encouraging and splashed up the bank before she did. When she had finally made it the rest of the way up the bank she glared venomously at the crazed horse. To her disgust he regarded her in the same fashion, then he bolted.

Muttering darkly to herself Serafina set out after him, not intent on finding him, however she may as well go in the direction the horse had chosen, figuring he would be putting as much distance between himself and the Nazgul as possible, and Serafina did not think that a foolish idea.

Little did the thief know that the horse was headed in the direction of Rivendell. Serafina had no intention of meeting the elves, she wanted another human village as easy to work in as Bree, she doubted very much that elves would receive the likes of her with open arms. However she trudged on unknowingly towards the Last Homely House, sodden with river water and grumpy for many valid reasons. The last thing she expected was to see two pairs of piercing clear blue eyes, set in identical timeless faces, each with perfect long brown hair proudly displaying delicately pointed ears. She would have smiled charmingly at the handsome elves if it had not been for the pair of arrows trained unyieldingly on her. Serafina closed her eyes and prayed she was dreaming, when she opened her eyes and realised the Gods weren't listening she smiled anyway, and waited for them to speak.


	6. Chapter 6

Ok. Umm…what can I say? I am flattered! U…ah…I dunno what 2 say…

i must say...even with the input of my wonderful and much loved reviewers it was a hard decision. I started writing this with the intention of having a nice normal Legolas/OC fic. But yeah…I've actually indented on a lot of things going differently but when I write, the situations sort of just happen with no regard for my intentions. I _want_ to write an Aragorn one, cuz it will b a challenge and it will be different. BUT Legolas is irresistible and Aragorn is taken which will mean I have to deal with Arwen…hmmm. Oh I don't know!

Oh and yes it's Elladan and Elrohir… I couldn't very well let her be caught by Legolas…that would have been a disgusting cliché or Aragorn, which would have also been a cliché.

I realised that ultimately it's up 2 me. U r entitled to hate me 4 my decision, I know I'll probably hate myself a few times 4 it, but bear with me. At least I'll make it different…I'm considering letting her fall into earth…haha no joking, but seriously as one of my wonderful reviewers pointed out the poor thing has so much bad luck she deserves a break…maybe I'll just let her Aragorn and Legolas fall into Hawaii. Ha ha.

Thanks again 4 all ur reviews they r wonderful. I wouldn't b able 2 do it without them….plz keep em comin.

Enjoy!

Chapter Six

The silence between the three was eerie. The elves did not move, and the thief was far too stubborn to give in first. She had heard tales about the elves, and they were every bit as perfect to look at as was told. She pondered their immortality; this eternal life would undoubtedly give them patience, thiswas a qualityshe lacked.

Reassuring herself that she wasn't giving in first, that she was merely acting so that she did not waste the rest of her life standing in front of these overly patient elves she opened her mouth to speak.

"Did I do something wrong?" she asked them with more confidence than she felt. The elves did not react, Serafina wasn't used to this. Normally she could provoke a reaction from anyone. She wondered if she could beat them in a fight, she did not think it was impossible, they certainly didn't look as tough as the thugs from Bree, or the guards of the White City. Still, she was hesitant to draw her daggers; she had heard in a story somewhere that elves were formidable warriors. However their unrelenting cold stare and taught bows pointed at her left her no choice; slowly, painfully slowly she reached for her daggers.

The second she started to move they drew their arrows a centimetre further back, she grinned; a reaction.

"I fail to see what amuses you so." Said one of the elves, she wiped the grin off her face and stared coldly back.

"Why do you hold you weapons on me?" she asked as coolly as possible, something about them reminded her of Strider, there was something about their nature, the silent way the two of them had taken control of the situation, that reminder her of Strider.

"You are entering into the land of the Lord of Imladris," began the other elf "without summons or escort. Do you expect to be allowed to walk freely through that which is not you own in times such as these? Do you expect welcome?"

"I am a simple girl from the village of Bree, I ran from the Nazgul and I ended up here."

"Few people from Bree would refer to the nine as Nazgul, few people in Bree have heard of them. From Bree you may be, though I doubt you are simple."

She didn't like this situation, and she liked the elves in front of her even less. On the off chance that their confidence was a façade, and the stories of the elves aptitude in war craft was simply that; a story, Serafina pulled her daggers as quickly as humanly possible.

The moment she had the daggers in her hand she heard the twang of a bowstring and fell to the ground instantaneously. Her daggers lay forgotten by her side. She was on her hands and knees, the shaft of an arrow protruding from her left thigh. She swore violently at the elves. Not caring who was responsible. The elves had not moved, they simply watched her unblinkingly. The one who had shot her had obviously already re-drawn his bow, she hadn't even seen them shoot her. Something Strider had said to her the night the Nazgul had come stuck a cord, 'Many things we hope to be stories are in fact true.' Serafina scowled, and decided to count the stories of elves weapon abilities as one of those that are true.

Gritting her teeth and swallowing her pain she grabbed her daggers and stood up to face the unflappable elves. She stifled a cry as the muscles in her left thigh moved against the arrow. She stood waveringly and greatly favouring her left leg.

"No," she growled, "I am not simple."

"Put down your daggers girl. Or I will shot you again, this time you will not be able to get up."

"I will put away my weapons when you put away yours" she said indignantly. Serafina was seething, the thugs in Bree were strong, but they were not fast. Only the thieves in Bree were quick, and thieves rarely fought each other-Serafina had no idea how to handle this situation, and less of an idea how to do it injured.

"You are out numbered, human, I suggest you do what we ask." Said the other, or was it the same she did not know. Serafina was beginning to become light headed; she was losing blood fast. Letting her guard down momentarily she glanced at her leg, and wished she didn't. The arrow must have gone right through, only an inch of the shaft was visible with the feathers on the end from. There was blood everywhere.

Serafina wished that a stroke of brilliance would come to her, she wished that she could find someway out of this situation. Finally she decided on the truth, well part of the truth.

"I was in trouble in Bree, so I fled. My horse was scared by the Nazgul and ran away from me. I left without a map. I don't know where I am. I tripped on the bridge back there and fell into the river that is why I am dripping wet. I had no intention of meeting with elves or upsetting you. I would appreciate it if you would let me go. I have no intention of heading to Imladris or whatever you called you city, and I can fix my own leg, thanks to you putting g a stick through it."

It was the elves turn to smile. They looked at each other and produced identical amused grins. They had not come across such a young girl with so much spirit in a long time.

"You underestimate us human." Said one of them, Serafina was finding it increasingly difficult to remember which had said what. She couldn't even remember which one of them had shot her, and that was very unlike her. The elf continued, "Indeed you underestimate our reaction time, our skills with a bow and arrow, our perceptual skill and our ability to judge character." Serafina knew they were talking to her, just, what were they saying? The pain in her leg was getting worse. She swayed, and clutched her daggers tighter, trying desperately to concentrate on what they were saying. One of them started talking again, she felt like yelling at them to shut up—she was trying to concentrate here. Grabbing at reality she focused on remaining conscious, somewhere she knew she had lost too much blood. In her mind she realised they were no longer speaking in her language. Now how did they expect her to understand them, she was no elf. She felt two pairs of strong arms on her body and tried to push them away. She flailed her arms wildly and the elves pried her fingers open, disarming her. She hated being weak. Vowing that when she was recovered she would rob each of them of everything they owned, she felt them gag her and bind her hands and feet.

If she was not so out of it, Serafina would have been disgusted with herself. She was almost unconscious from a single arrow in her leg. Granted she had had a rather trying past few days, but that was no excuse. Serafina relied on herself and herself alone, and she could not afford to be this helpless. However currently, she was helpless. The only thing she could do was squirm on the horse they had thrown her over. From the pressure on her leg she gathered they had bound her wound, at least she wouldn't lose too much more blood she thought as she finally slipped into unconsciousness.

The two elves chuckled to themselves when they saw the human girl fall fast asleep. They hoped Estel would arrive soon to Imladris, it would help to have a human on their side when she awoke.


	7. Chapter 7

Uh, umm dunno what 2 say…yet again. Ya'll keep making it harder and harder 4 me 2 choose. I really am caught in 2 minds, though I think I've made the decision. But lets leave it at that I still don't know, although time is running out very quickly for u 2 change my mind. I think I'll just write and see what happens…we may end up in Hawaii after all. ; )

I don't think I have ever been this flattered in my life—thankyou all so much 4 the reviews they are an amazing source of inspiration! I just can't believe ya'll like it so much…ha ha! I shoulda started writing earlier—this is awesome!

Please enjoy!

Oh and I always forget a disclaimer…but u no the drill.

Chapter Seven

When Serafina woke she found herself in an unfamiliar room. Her head ached and she found it difficult to adjust to the light spilling into her room. She tested her bonds. They were tight, however they were rope, not chains. She sat up on her bed; her hands and feet were bound to the bed. She remembered her encounter with the identical elves and looked at her thigh, it had been tended too. She tried moving her leg, straining against the bonds. It definitely had not healed yet, pain coursed up her thigh. Sighing she lent back down on her bed.

Serafina wasn't in control. She wasn't even remotely in control. Her situation was completely vulnerable, and she had heard that the elves were friendly, and by and by good beings. That did not bode well with her, for as a general rule friendly, good people did not take to Serafina, and did not treat her with the friendship and goodness they were known for. She acknowledged within herself somewhere that that was to some degree her own fault, yet she could not help what she was and she was definitely not ashamed of being a thief.

She was trying to find a means of escape, assuming there was a way to free herself from her bonds. She sat up again, it wasn't the most comfortable position and the constant movement aggravated her leg, but siting up made the feeling of defencelessness ease, if only a little.

She heard a swift knock on the door and watched as it opened. Three figures walked in, two of whom she recognised as the identical elves that had vexed her greatly and shot her. At the sight of them she scowled, they seemed to be amused by her response to them, that only made her scowl deeper.

The third figure resembled the two she'd met earlier. Serafina began to wonder if all elves looked the same. However on closer inspection, the third looked wiser, more experienced. There was a sorrow in his eyes and a hardness that the other two lacked. However there was also warmth and acceptance present there. Serafina marvelled at how a singular pair of eyes could hold so much.

"What is your name child?" demanded the one who's eyes captivated her.

Serafina didn't know if she should answer or not. She had given her name freely to the man and hobbits, but this was different. These people were her captors. As is reading her thoughts the same elf said;

"You have nothing to fear from us, we will not hurt you."

The thief openly scoffed at this. They would not hurt her? They had already shot her!

"Forgive me if I do not trust those who shoot at innocent girls who have lost their way." She stated strongly.

The elf smiled knowingly and she wondered why. Yet she was not left wondering for long.

"You told my sons, Elladan and Elrohir, that you were from Bree, that I do not doubt. Yet you mentioned the Nazgul, and few from Bree could identify such beings. Then you spoke of your horse. Elladan and Elrohir had seen you galloping your run down horse into the river." He paused to gauge her reaction, she didn't give him the satisfaction of showing one—she met his gaze with defiant eyes. "It is no wonder my sons were cautious in approaching you. Your situation was not improved when you decided to be uncooperative when they asked you valid and reasonable questions. Needless to say all credit you may have been holding was lost when you pulled your daggers…Somehow, I do not believe your claim to innocence."

Serafina glared. She disliked being made to look like a fool. "And who are you to judge me?" She demanded in a dangerous tone.

From the look of surprise and displeasure on his face Serafina guessed she had gone too far. She admitted in that moment that the tone she used just then had gotten her into amazing piles of trouble in the past. When she was 11 years old she had said much the same thing to the eldest son of the Steward of Gondor. She cringed inwardly—that was not a pleasant memory. It was one of the few situations when the reward of the infuriation of a pompous lord was not worth the price paid. The little voice of reason in her head that she rarely listened to was telling her this was going to be much the same.

"You are in no position to ask such a question. You are being held here, without welcome, without anyone to speak for you. You are now defenceless and have no way of escape, and still you question my authority. I am Elrond, Lord of Imladris, and you will answer my questions or I shall make arrangements for your stay here to be extended and a little, less comfortable."

She was furious, with herself or this elf-lord she didn't know, nor did she care. But one thing was certain, she would not yield to his demands, she was stronger than that and it would take more than mere threats to break her.

"You name please?" Asked the elf-lord. Again she was reminded of Strider. 'What is it about these elves?' she wondered. The finality of what he said, the respect he demanded by simply being in the room, it was uncanny the way it reminded her of him. If all three of these elves reminded her of him, then maybe there was a shot at getting out of here. She decided to test the water.

"I will give you my name on one condition." She began, please with herself for the first time in days, "That you will help me solve a riddle, maybe two that have been nagging at me these past few days."

The proud elf-lord seemed to consider her request then nodded his head in answer. Then said, "Your name first."

"Miyra" she said automatically. She watched his reaction and he nodded acceptingly. Yet she did not allow herself to feel any sense of accomplishment, the battle was far from won. She took this as a sign to continue.

"The last night I spent in Bree was in an Inn, The Prancing Pony, to be exact. There I met a man and four hobbits. They intruded into my room and did not notice my presence. I listened to them talking." she paused for a moment, then continued,"I fail to see what trinkets have to do with disappearing. One of the hobbits, his name was Frodo Baggins; the man who called himself Strider accused him of carrying a trinket. There conversation was really quite interesting and I have been trying to make sense of it since that night and have come no where."

"You speak of things you should not know." The elf-lord told her in a low voice.

"We had an agreement." Serafina growled.

"Release her bonds" Lord Elrond barked, "Do not think you are free Miyra, if that is indeed your name. We will be watching you. You are allowed to roam anywhere within my house. If the thought of escape enters your mind we will know." The elf-lord then left abruptly, and his sons undid her bonds leaving her to marvel at her victory. She now knew how to aggravate the elf-lord. Maybe the reward to this little endeavour would indeed be worth the price to be paid.


	8. Chapter 8

I must admit, I procrastinated a little, ok maybe a lot ; ) But I have made my decision. You have no idea how many times I have changed my mind!

I am thrilled with the way people have been describing Serafina! I had every intention to make her stubborn, proud, independent, and hell to get to know! Ha ha. Reminds me of someone I know... Keep reading and reviewing, pretty please.

Ah, burden off my chest. No more horrible decision about men! Well not here anyway…I will try to make this as real as possible even though the relationship most likely wouldn't happen…I'm going with the one Serafina would want.

Enjoy!

Chapter Eight

'Elves' Serafina thought, there were elves everywhere. No matter which way she turned there were always more, her recent triumph with Lord Elrond paled with the sight of all these elves. She noted with satisfaction that they did not all look the same, however this happy revelation was then dampened by the perfection they all seemed to possess.

Turning another corner she was greeted by a blessed sight—horses. Serafina had stumbled across the sables and just beyond the stables she saw a road that lead away from the Elvin city and into the mountains.

Serafina decided that today must be one of the better days she had had in a while. She had aggravated an elf-lord, was on her way to solving two very interesting riddles and had found the way out of this temporary prison. She knew that escape would have to wait a few days at least, there was far too much to gain from being here.

Sighing in resignation, she turned back towards the city. She started limping back up to the city (her thigh was considerably sore from her exploration) and settled for lunch. She had probably exerted herself enough today, and there was no way she could force anything out of Lord Elrond—at least not today, tomorrow perhaps she would try again, and she would have a plan.

…………………………

The elves were inescapable. Nothing she tried could loosen their grasp on her. Though she had managed, and this pleased Serafina greatly, to infuriate many, many elves (Elrond, Elladan and Elrohir being her favourite subjects).

As for the information she had tried to squeeze out of the elf-lord, Serafina was none the wiser. Lord Elrond, it seemed, was a very busy elf, who had "little time to accommodate for the curiosity of an ungrateful, stubborn girl."

Three days had passed and she had made none of the ground she had planned. In the back of her mind she knew that she was completely at the mercy of these elves, yet she was not resigned to that fact.

All she seemed to do all day was walk around the grounds, silently observing. She watched the twins mainly when she could no longer follow the all-important Lord Elrond. She needed to even the score, though she was not intending on rushing into this revenge—she wanted to do it properly, to make them remember that not even elves can mess with her and get away with it. However she had not been able to find the identical elves since midday yesterday. Perhaps their disappearance was in some way connected to Lord Elrond's agitation. Indeed, Serafina had noticed that over the past two days he had been rushing around Imladris with so much importance and urgency that the thief was almost in awe.

Serafina sighed; she was so small in this place, so unimportant. There was nothing for her to do now that the elf-lord and his sons were out of her reach. The remaining elves were not even worth a thought, for no other reason apart from the fact that they dismissed Serafina as a "lesser-being"; a human, who has no place among the elves. Although, now that she was thinking about it, she may have influenced their hospitable demeanour when she insulted their lord and his sons at the evening meal. Now she thought about it, she probably should have learnt her lesson the first time she crossed Lord Elrond, and she almost regretted the incident the night before last when she announced to the elf-lord that he, his sons and his kind were lying, manipulative, scum that Middle Earth could do without. She had meant every word, and though she had manipulated him she justified it by telling herself she was not perfect, was never meant to be and never aimed to be and elves supposedly were. He had lead her to thinking that he would show her the answers she was seeking in exchange for her name, true she had lied, but she had reason too, from what she knew he had no reason to lie. Serafina did not feel hard done by, merely annoyed and more alone than she had felt since Gondor.

Her attention was brought back to the present when she heard voices that were clearly not elves. A wave of excitement rushed through her, then recognition, then unease. She did not know where to go, should she hide? Or stay put? The hobbits that rounded the corner were anxious and Strider was as masked as he was that nite in Bree. But something else was wrong. Suddenly she realised; there were only three, three hobbits. Serafina had met four, where was the fourth? Where was Frodo?

Plucking up her confidence, she strode over and covered her concern with a cheery façade.

"I see our paths meet again Strider." She began, then turned to the hobbits, "Good day my friends. I trust you fare well?"

The hobbits merely nodded in response, this left her feeling even more unsettled. The thief turned to Strider and gave him a questioning look, he ignored her and knelt to speak with the hobbits, Serafina tried not to be too obvious in eavesdropping.

"…and tell him I have arrived and ask about Frodo's progress. I will follow you in after I have dealt with some issues."

The hobbits nodded meekly and filed off in the direction of the wide open doors. Strider turned to Serafina.

"What are you doing here?" he asked coldly.

Serafina almost blinked in shock, she did not think that they had parted on such bad terms, at least she didn't think she did anything wrong. Still she was not about to lie down and take a lecture from a man she hardly knew for no apparent reason.

"I could ask you the same question." She replied with an icy tone, she had mastered this tone, and he would not win this fight, not if shehad any say init.

Their eyes met in a bitter stare, behind her eyes though Serafina was trying to make sense of the situation.

"I had always planned to come here." He told her.

"And I did not plan on arriving in this destination, though it happened. I do not see why it concerns you were I travel, nor why."

"This is no place for someone like you."

"You speak as if you know the type of person I am. I assure you, you do not. Though I give you some credit, I am not here by choice. This is were the road lead, therefore were I ended up. I do not stay because I like it. I stay because I believe that there is ground to be made here, I will leave when I have what I want." Serafina gave the slightest smile at that, fully intending him to believe she wanted to rob the elves dry, 'Let him think I'm dim-witted and greedy, let him think he is above me. All the better for me' she thought with a smile. What she said wasn't a lie, though it wasn't the whole truth either, she liked it this way, it left her in control.

"And what is it you want girl?" he began looking her over shrewdly, "I know this place far better than you, any material riches you seek are beyond your reach, though if you look for knowledge all you need to do is ask."

Serafina could have responded to this statement in many ways, and took her time in deciding her reply, she wanted so badly to inform him that she was much better at her profession than he made out, though she didn't think that response would get her anywhere.

"The elf-lord knows what I seek, and he will not give it freely."

"I ask you again girl, what is it you seek? I have many matters to attend to, and I believe things will happen quicker without your presence."

Serafina blinked. Then she berated herself mentally. She should not be surprised by such comments. "Then please go on your way, my lord," she said mockinglyas she bowed to him with a flourish, "I shall endeavour to keep away from your feet so you may not trip over me." She said this with her token thief grin, which screamed mischief and wickedness. The thief then strode away confidently. She had won—she loved winning. She had the upper hand. Perhaps she should go and try to squeeze more information from Lord Elrond, surely she must get something from him this time considering one part of her riddle was standing alone in his garden looking decidedly aggravated.

Strider sighed and watched her go. She had left with the upper hand. He ran a hand through his hair, there were far more important things than her right now. He pushed her from his mind and turned his thoughts to Frodo. He had arrived with Arwen, his Arwen. He prayed that they would both be alive and well.

His face contourted as he realised that the fate of the world was about tobe decided, he didn't have time for the girl who had just insulted him, he harly had time for the one he loved; Arwen. This was going to be an interesting couple of weeks.


	9. Chapter 9

I am so sorry…I really have no excuse. But I'm leaving the country on the 21st of January so I'm a mite busy…have pity on me. I'll try and make this chapter worth the wait…

Chapter Nine

Serafina had difficulty following Strider through the corridors of Imladris; she had to be careful not to get too close, but then if she lagged behind she might lose him. The thief preferred to work in the cover of darkness where she could hide in the shadows, yet fate would have it that it was currently midday and the shadows were few and far between.

Suddenly he disappeared behind a door and closed it promptly behind him. Serafina ran swiftly to the door and pressed her ear to the crack. She strained to listen to the voices, desperately seeking to add another piece to the puzzle. Yet, when she did make out the voices, Serafina could not work out the words. Sighing she realised they were speaking in Elvish.

Serafina was confused, and yet slightly pleased. She was pleased that she was right about her suspicions of Strider, there was more to him than met the eye, yet she was hardly closer to finding out what lay beneath the surface. He spoke Elvish; that was significant, not many men could master that tongue.

She retreated to her room. It was actually beginning to grow on her; the room and the knowledge that she has somewhere to sleep, the knowledge that she doesn't have to worry about where she will eat tonight. Yet in a way this life frustrated her, she had nothing to do other than aggravate Elves. There was no excitement, no risks, no mind games or fights. Just peace. And though the tranquillity was a welcome retreat from her life of late, she knew it would not be long until she would be seeking out the adventure she likes to think of as her life.

The thief was started by a knock on the door. Serafina ignored it. The door opened to reveal a beautiful she-elf who cordially invited her to the feast tonight, then not so tactfully added that Lord Elrond expects her presence. Serafina nodded at the elf and she dumped a bundle of clothes on the table and left in a huff.

Serafina looked at the neatly folded clothes sitting on the table. She was about to walk away without even looking at the clothes she was expected to wear, but stopped herself. Lord Elrond would likely not expect her to even show, let alone make an appearance in anything other than her usual tatty thief clothes. 'Yes' she decided, a dress would do nicely.

………………………

Serafina smiled at her reflection, tonight she was not an annoying, stubborn, girl – well not to look at anyway – and no one would guess she was a thief. In fact Serafina doubted that many would recognise her, this enabled her to steal any information she wanted, she could manipulate in a different way tonight. Perhaps this place wasn't so bad after all.

Before she left the room she caught her reflection again. She wasn't a vain girl, but she admitted that tonight she looked particularly good. Her large green eyes were accentuated by the grey/green dress she wore. She had run a brush through her tattered dark brown hair and it fell in waves. Serafina smirked and covered her ears with her hair, with her fine features and slight build she could almost pass as an elf, though she wasn't tall enough to fool those with cunning minds she might confuse a few.

………………………

As she entered the hall no one turned to glare at her, she tried her hardest to keep the wickedness from her smile, though it was a difficult task.

She spoke politely to some elves that thought it necessary to introduce themselves to her for a second time. She told them nothing of herself, evading questions with practiced perfection. She tried desperately to work her way towards the elf-lord, yet she seemed to gain no ground on him. Eventually she locked her gaze on Strider and tried to mask her surprise. He wore expensive robes and looked decidedly royal. To add to the shock was the beautiful elf maiden on his arm. It seemed like she was glowing with starlight. Serafina scowled, and thought to herself that it should be made a crime to be that pretty. What chance did she ever have with any man if there were creatures like that elf in Middle Earth?

Slowly she pulled her eyes away from the pretty couple and consoled herself by remembering the promise she had made about men, and what they are all like underneath.

The twins called the hall to attention; they were solemnly welcoming everyone to the feast, in Elvish. Then the spoke in common, she couldn't understand why, all elves would have understood the first welcome and she was, as far as she knew, the only one who did not understand their frilly language. Then her eyes rested on the hobbits, and she thought maybe they spoke that for their benefit. She scanned the room again and her eyes halted on a group of men. Suddenly everywhere she looked she saw men and elves from different parts of Middle Earth. Serafina glanced up at the Elladan and Elrohir when they started speaking in a guttural earthly language. Serafina was not expecting this, whatever this was. Suddenly a cheerful reply in the same language came from the middle on the room. The thief turned to look at the speaker and blinked in shock. Dwarves! Dwarves? In Imladris? Now she had seen everything.

Realising that there was movement around her Serafina hurried to follow suit. Everyone was hurriedly taking his or her seats. Serafina dived towards the closest seat and happened to end up on a table of men. Men of Gondor.

She sat down, she had no choice. She saw nobility all around her, and felt ashamedly intimidated. Serafina had been run in with this crowed before. The thief prayed that her face had changed over the years, she prayed they would not recognise her.

Serafina kept her eyes cast down during the first and second courses. However she had dressed to attract attention, not to be overlooked. She played the part of a shy simple girl from Bree and kept the name Miyra, for they would definitely recognise Serafina.

Presently the Gondorian's started discussing their business here in Imladris, or Rivendell as they called it.

"The council is to meet tomorrow at eleven o'clock." Said a voice, Serafina refused to look up. She remembered that voice, 8 years was not long enough for her to forget, and she doubted it was long enough for him.

Yet she refused to be buried in memories of the past. Serafina didn't have time to reminisce now. The men were talking about the peoples of Middle Earth that had come for the council. The thief was only half listening to their banter until the son of the steward mention the ring of power.

As soon as those words were uttered from his mouth the thief's head snapped up and her eyes met his. The ring of power, Serafina wondered at that for a moment, however her train of thought was broken when she realised the trouble she had landed herself in.

She couldn't look away, so she glared back. Their table was silent, which was just as well otherwise she wouldn't be able to hear the Lord of Gondor as he whispered.

"How dare you sit at my table. How dare you show your face in my presence. You should be dead." His voice was naught more than a whisper, yet his words rung in her head as if he had yelled them an inch from her ear.

"I am no Gondorian. Your law does not bind me. I am bound by no ones law, and I am obliged to serve none but myself. You have no power over me here." She retorted defensively. Serafina found it difficult to hide her fear.

Slowly Boromir stood and boomed, "I am the son of the Steward. You will treat me with respect thief!"

The room quietened instantaneously. All eyes were on the Gondorian and the girl.

"Is this the company you welcome to your table Lord Elrond?" Boromir was now addressing the room. "You would harbour a thief. And Serafina is no common thief my lord, she doesn't just steal money and—"

"Boromir," Lord Elrond said as he stood, "This girl is my guest here in Imladris, no matter who she is to you or what crimes she has committed, she is under my roof, and therefore under my protection. I would ask that you do not question my choice of company again. Would you please join me outside Miyra, or is it Serafina? I would like a word." He turned again to the rest of the company, "Please enjoy your dessert, then join me in the sitting room for music and wine."

Serafina rose from her seat and followed the elf lord outside; she had expected an interesting night, yet she was banking on a different kind of interesting.

…………………………

"Well then," the elf lord paused considering the thief in front of him, "am I to assume your name is Miyra or Serafina. Or would you prefer me to call you something else?" he said with a sarcastic and disappointed tone.

Serafina felt like a fool. She hadn't been so humiliated in a long while, at least not so publicly, not since last time she had met Boromir.

"Tell me girl; who are you?"

She looked at him for a good while, and it struck her, he was genuinely asking her who she was. She almost congratulated herself, the thief finally had the elf lords attention.


	10. Chapter 10

Ok…so I'm gonna try and write this now… I'm gonna try and make it good. No guarantees. Sigh…I hope you all had a wonderful Christmas… and I hope you had a great new year…I did… ha ha

Chapter 10

"I am a thief." She said to the elf lord. "My name is Serafina."

"Very well. I see you and Boromir of Gondor are acquainted."

"Yes, we have met."

"I see. Tell me Serafina, why are you here?"

"Because your sons shot me."

"From whom are you running?"

"I was running from another thief, someone I have known a long while. He and his thugs."

"And why are you still here, there is nothing for you here."

"I…I um. Well I thought…" Serafina was thoroughly confused; she had never been this open with anyone. She never gave answers unless she had to and here she was answering his every question. Serafina caught herself, what was she doing? She had every right to be here, and he had ordered her to stay to boot. Besides, there were things here for her, not to mention her dignity that she must have left in the dining room hall. Plucking up her wits she stood a little straighter; it would take more than a pompous man and a highly-strung elf to get the better of her. "As a matter of fact my lord, you are wrong. There are things for me here. The very things I asked from you on my arrival. The very things you keep from me. When I have the answers to my trivial riddles I will leave you and yours alone."

The Elvin lord considered what she had said. "Why did you not give me your proper name?"

Serafina smirked, "It seemed to be the thing to do at the time. Excuse me my lord, but I haven't asked for anything other than answers, I haven't tried to escape and now you even have my name. Please, will you tell me what I seek or at least will you tell me why you won't tell me or am I wasting my time? For I fear that it is rather time for me to move on from your house."

"I will tell you nothing, for it is not your business to know."

Serafina was getting a little annoyed, she had been honest with this elf, and it had gotten her nowhere. She decided to stick with what she knew. She took a wild stab in the dark, fishing only for a reaction.

"I know more than you would expect, and I am starting to think that my two riddles are connected in some way. Actually, I believe they are connected to the secret council, which is not so secret. Oh, and of course the ring of power."

Serafina was overwhelmed with excitement and relief as she watched his fair face flit from utter confusion to devastation to livid anger. It was like a game where little children guess what emotion being portrayed.

"Tell me what you know." he demanded.

Serafina was not one to respect authority. In fact Serafina was not one for respect. She liked it payed to her yet giving it out was not one of her strong points. Though the way the elf lord had made this demand made her think twice. She wasn't entirely sure if she wanted to cross this lord. The thief was undecided on if she needed this elf's trust. Generally she wouldn't worry about this; generally she could manage by herself. Yet his reaction to her words had told her more than enough.

She decided it was time to think on her feat. Time to do some fast-talking and quicker thinking.

She recounted her adventures in The Inn of the Prancing Pony, beginning with when she met the hobbits and Strider. She moved on to describe the Nazgul's in Bree and then her flight to Rivendell. Then she told of the conversation in the hall at dinner. "It's my guess," she said after she had finished her tale, "that the wraiths are out looking for the ring of power. I would like to believe it hasn't been found, but why were they following me to Rivendell, or should I say, why were they following the hobbits and Strider to Imladris if it remains hidden."

To Serafina's surprise Elrond laughed. "My girl," he said, pausing to recover from his fit of hysterics, "My dear girl, you have a very active mind on you. Ha! What an imagination! Answer me this; why would four halflings and a ranger be bearing the ring of power?" He paused and his face became serious again, "No, Serafina, you keep you theories and your stories to yourself. Use that imagination of yours to amuse yourself on a lonely night, my heart tells me there will be many lonely nights for you to come."

Serafina was crestfallen; she had been on a roll. It all fitted, all of it. No matter how unfortunate the situation, it fitted. There was no other explanation, yet elves did not lie. "Oh," she replied, quite miffed. "Oh, um well then I guess I shall be off then my lord."

"That is probably best." He said with a caring and considerate tone. "It would be well if you took your leave of Imladris in the morning as well, I think you have out stayed your welcome here."

"I will be gone tomorrow. Thankyou for the roof over my head, and the food; you have been kind and I didn't deserve it, thankyou." With that she turned and left.

…………………………………

Elrond watched her go and breathed a sigh of relief. That had been close. The thief was smart he had to admit. Yet she was beaten too easily at her own game. He took another deep breath and turned to join the party. The secret of the ring had been kept safe, and he hadn't even lied to keep it secret and safe.


	11. Chapter 11

I just checked my stats page and I have been listed in "the worst of the worst" C2 page. Ouch… I didn't think it was _that_ bad. So my faithful readers…if you are in the mood to send some hate mail…. please don't hesitate to rush to my rescue. Ha ha, kidding.

I hope u enjoy this chappie. Someone, **(cough Samantha-Girl Scout cough) **guessed what I was planning to do…so I have to think up something else to keep u all and myself guessing…ha ha. winks at Samantha-Girl Scout> …what's that saying? Great minds think alike…?

Oh…and lets get one thing clear. I am actually a big fan of Boromir; I think he is a great character because he has flaws and I know he means well. So bear with me; he has a reason for being so awful.

I keep forgetting disclaimers… so lets get one thing straight…I own Serafina…that's it…so far.

Chapter Eleven

Serafina awoke well past dawn the next morning. She had woken in a cheerless mood and quietly set about packing her things.

She was in the process of stealing away from Imladris quietly when she found herself directly in the path of one Boromir of Gondor. They were standing about a foot away from one another. Serafina dared a glance into his eyes, she felt quite small so near to him. She thought to herself that he had this way of looking down on people, of making them feel less than their worth, and he had perfected it.

"What is your business here?" he jeered at her, "What could a person of your integrity, or lack of, be doing in Rivendell? The likes of you are _never_ welcome here, no matter what the elf-lord said last night."

The hackles on her back went up, and her skin crawled. Serafina remembered just how much she despised this man. Though she didn't respond to his provocative comments.

"What is it you petty thief? Cat got your tongue?"

When she didn't reply he started circling her, like a shark before it attacks its prey. Serafina did not let her eyes stray from him.

"I could kill you now. No one would miss you. No one would care." He chuckled at the thought.

"You wouldn't dare."

"Oh, wouldn't I?" he paused as if to consider what to say next before continuing, "You be surprised how easy it is to kill someone. If you don't think about what you're doing, it just happens. If you don't think, or if you don't care, killing is as easy as anything. That is until you realise the consequences of your actions, or until you realise the seriousness of what you have done. And then it starts to affect you, and the ones that did care." By this time his voice was naught but a whisper and he had stopped walking around Serafina and was standing by her side talking into her ear. Serafina stood defiantly, staring straight ahead, back rigid and unyielding. After a short pause Boromir continued, "But then, you know this already don't you." It wasn't a question, just a confirmation of what they both already knew, a reminder that he hadn't forgotten and a warning.

The sound of footsteps broke the still pair but the sombre mood lingered in the air after Boromir left the room. The thief stood still, trying to gather her wits enough to move. Someone placed a hand on her shoulder and she jumped and whirled to face the culprit.

"Strider!" she exclaimed, relief washed through her body, as the images of Boromir seep out of her mind and the unspoken threats disappeared.

"What was that about?" he inquired. It occurred to Serafina that he was genuinely concerned—he certainly seemed to be. Yet since their last encounter, the thief was not feeling particularly warm towards the mysterious man. Besides her mood was in a frightfully bad state, and the chances of the gods themselves getting a nice word from her at this point in time was not strong.

"That is my business, and my business is none of your concern." She snapped.

He raised his eyebrows at her comment but did not refute it. Instead he nodded at her rucksack, "Are you going somewhere?"

"I'm leaving." She said blankly. "It appears that you and the others were right; there is nothing for me here. I am going where there is a place for me, somewhere where I can be who I am."

"You're a thief, no place will welcome you."

"Ah, you see, that's just it" Serafina grinned at him; it was her fully-fledged thieves grin, that told of mischief and an unquenchable thirst for adventure and strife. "I'm not asking for welcome. Just a place where there are some stupid, wealthy, fat people, and maybe some more pompous lords I can bother, if I'm lucky."

Strider grinned at her and shook his head, then the smile faded from his face. "What did you do to anger the son of the Steward of Gondor so? He is not an evil man, he is a lord, lords can be cruel and cold, but not without reason. He is too young to know the bitterness that plagues great leaders of men, he is not yet cold and cruel. What did you do?"

Serafina did not meet his grey eyes when she replied, "I tried to steal from him, and I took more than necessary, more than I wanted to." She paused and looked up at him, "I regret it, and I am sorry for what I took."

"Why did you not return it?" Strider asked, clearly perplexed. To him this was an easily fixed scenario, unless she wasn't telling the whole story.

"Some things you can just put back. Some things you take, you take forever. You should know that. I can see just by looking at you that you are not the simple man you seek to be and wan to be seen as. Who are you?"

"That is none of your concern." Their eyes locked in a silent battle of wills. They stayed like that for almost a minute. Each too stubborn to move, for that would mean forfeit.

"Ahem," came a deep voice somewhere behind the pair. Serafina spun on the spot to see who their company was. She was stunned to find an old man in dark, dirty grey robes. He had a ridiculously long beard, though there was something about his eyes. His eyes were a clear blue and held in them wisdom and youth. Serafina was thrilled with the amount of interesting people she had been meeting lately. 'Perhaps,' she thought, 'I should travel more often.'

"Come Aragorn, or we shall be late for the council."

'Aragorn.' She thought she knew that name. Serafina could swear she'd heard it before. Presently the old man turned to her and stated talking.

"I am disappointed we did not get a chance to meet properly, Serafina. Though I do not doubt that our paths will cross again in the not too distant future. Take care, little one."

Serafina's mind was whirling with thoughts. She knew she had to respond to his greeting so she yelled after him the first thing that came into her mind. "I am not little!" In hindsight Serafina knew that it wasn't the best option for a response, yet what was done was done.

……………………………

As Serafina made her way through the halls of Imladris she came across the archery practice field. She remembered watching the sons of Lord Elrond practice their archery with love and enthusiasm. She grinned as she realised the field was deserted, and set about finding Elrohir and Elladan's personal bow, bowstrings and quivers. She had a score to settle.


	12. Chapter 12

Ok…so far I have nothing terribly important to write…and absolutely no idea how to continue the story… hmmm this could be interesting…I keep changing my mind about things so please bear with me, I'm not very good at decision making and once I've made the decision I normally find out later that I made the wrong one. I've done that already in this story…I think.

Disclaimer: Don't own Aragorn, Legolas, Faramir, Boromir, Ēomir or any of the other hot men in lotr, I don't own any of the other characters in lotr either…so please don't sue me. But I own Serafina so please don't steal her from me…she's mine, my own…u get the drift

Oh and if I get the time sequencing wrong please bear with me…it is for the benefit of the story.

This chappie has turned out to be quite the marathon…Enjoy!

Chapter 12

After the conclusion of the council Elladan and Elrohir retreated to the archery fields to unwind and to prepare their gear for the morning. For when dawn arrived they, and the rest of the skilled hunters, trackers and ranger, were to depart in search of the Nazgul in order to determine when it would be safe for the fellowship to depart.

Talking happily to each other and discussing the success of the council they retrieved their bows, and quivers. However when they went to string their bows, instead of bowstrings they found pale pink wool. When they aimed and fired their arrows at the targets, instead of the arrows imbedding themselves into the target they hit it and fell to the ground. On closer inspection the twins found both quivers held arrows that had had the tips cut off with a sharp knife.

Elladan was not impressed. Elrohir had a habit of setting up pranks that really got to him, but this time he had gone too far. Elladan needed to rest tonight, not spent the entirety of it carving sticks into arrows. "By Eru! Elrohir? Did you do this? This is not funny; I just carved this quiver-full. Now I have to re-carve them all."

"Elladan! Why are you accusing me? Did you not notice brother; I too have wool for a bowstring and tipless arrows. And I too must carve another quiver-full of arrows." Elrohir was appalled his brother would accuse him of this. True, they did occasionally play pranks on each other, but why would he play one on himself as well?

"Then who did it if not you?" Elladan asked accusingly.

"You." Elrohir provided.

Elladan retorted sharply, "Now you're being daft. Why would I do something like this? I want some rest tonight!"

Elrohir responded adamantly, "There is as much chance of you doing it to me as there is of me doing it to you! And I didn't do it. That leaves you."

"But I didn't do it. How can I believe you didn't do it?"

"And how can I believe you didn't do it?"

"Because I didn't do it!"

"I didn't do it either!"

"I don't believe you!"

"Neither do I!"

"You don't believe yourself?"

"I don't believe you, you idiot."

"Elladan! Elrohir!"

The twins turned to face their long time friend, whom they thought of as a brother. Aragorn continued speaking, "I think you may be leaving a likely candidate out of the equation."

The twins looked at each other then back at Aragorn and asked in complete unison, "Who?"

"Just think. Who may have a distinct dislike for you two? Who has visited Rivendell quite recently that may have dislike for archery and a complete lack of respect for elves? Who swore that they would equal the score?" Aragorn smiled at his friends as he watched the penny drop slowly. "Do you understand who I am talking about? Or do I need to go into further detail?"

Elladan spoke up first, "No Aragorn, further detail will not be necessary. Damn that girl!"

"I swear that thief was more trouble than she's worth." Elrohir stated bitterly. The three of them would meet again, he would make sure of that. 'And next time' he thought, 'she will not get away on top.'

…………………………

Serafina chuckled to herself. The only regret she had was not seeing the faces of the twins when they realised what she had done. She thought that perhaps when they figured out that it was her that did it, it would be worth seeing even more.

"Actually" she said to herself, "I have one more regret." She paused to frown at her stupidity, "I should have stolen a horse. And a map! And some more food!" suddenly her spirits dropped considerably. She definitely had not stolen enough food, and the quick study she'd had of Elrond's map would not suffice.

Sighing to herself, she realise she had no other real choice other than to keep walking in the direction she thought Gondor was in. "Or Rohan. I could go to Rohan." She said to herself.

Serafina kept walking until well after the sun had laid itself to rest for the day.

…………………………

After a week of walking, Serafina was becoming extremely bitter. She had no company, no food, no horse, no map, and no water. The fact that she had no company didn't really bother her, mostly she didn't like people - they aggravated her with their stupidity and sickly sweet kindness. However having no food, horse, map or water didn't sit well with the thief.

Serafina wasn't accustomed to fending for herself in the wild. In cities she could survive by herself tremendously well. Really, she was no good at hunting or foraging – stealing was a different story, however in the wilderness there was no one to steal from, hence her sticky predicament and the foul mood.

Finally the night became so dark Serafina could not walk without tripping. The thief decided that it was time to sleep until dawn when she would continue her trek.

It wasn't long until she stumbled on a tree with roots that would be a good shelter from the wind through the night. She pulled out the remainders of the stale bread she had stolen from the kitchens back in Imladris, there was barely more than two good mouthfuls left. She ate it all, and wished fervently for some water to wash it down with.

She had finally settled down and closed her eyes to sleep when she heard a blood-curdling howl.

Her eyes flew open and she lay very still, hardly daring to breathe. After she was satisfied that the howl had been nothing more then her imagination she snuggled closer to the tree root. Slowly she closed her eyes. Immediately she regretted it. The howl came again, closer, more threatening and hair-raising than before.

Wide-eyed and sitting up Serafina tried desperately to see around her. She praised the gods when the clouds uncovered the moon. Though the moonlight gave little light and less comfort. It bathed her surroundings in an eerie glow, and made each shadow seem deeper than before.

Suddenly the howl came again, but this time it was answered. At least five more howls came after the first, each hitting a different note making a blood-chilling harmony of terror. Serafina froze. She quickly glanced around for a weapon. She carried nothing on her other than her treasured daggers, and they would be no use to her against a pack of wolves.

Her eyes fell on a fallen branch the length of a walking stick but the width of her thigh – silently she sent up a prayer of thanks. Then she saw it.

The wolf was enormous. The leader of the pack came up to her waist. If her brain had of been working she would have cursed Eru for her luck. But as it was Serafina's brain was in shutdown mode. The only thing she saw was the size of its jaws. The leader of the pack started running towards her and suddenly her brain went into overdrive. She didn't know whether to run, hide, fight or charge. Eventually she didn't end up moving, she stood there gripping the branch in her hands – it was her lifeline.

The wolf was very close; he was a mere second away from ploughing her down and sinking in his teeth. As he leapt at her she swung the branch. Serafina was a little late in hitting him but she managed to knock his hip before his fangs sunk into her skin. Unfortunately his claws had come into contact with her face extremely close to her eyes on her left side. The wolf fell down to her right not very far from her and did not take very long to recover. He was readying himself to lunge at her again but Serafina reacted quicker and swung at his head. To her dismay he caught the branch in his mouth as if it were a mere twig floating through the air. Serafina cried out in desperation. She was petrified. Suddenly the rest of the wolves came into her vision. There were about 30 seconds away from her.

Desperately she wrestled with the wolf to retain hold of the branch. It was the only buffer between it and her. She had to keep it. Serafina gave an extra hard yank at the branch and it slipped out of her grasp, leaving bits of splinters in her palms. She cried out again, this time in pain and backed away slowly from the wolf. The leader of the pack wasted no time. He lunged at Serafina. She screamed as his teeth embedded themselves into her wrist. By this stage she was crying in desperation, she was completely alone. The thief panicked as she noticed the rest of the pack was nearly upon her. With her left hand she groped for one of her daggers. Finding her prize she desperately plunged it into the wolves neck. The wolf chocked a snarl and bit harder. Serafina withdrew the dagger and aimed lower this time, towards the heart. This time the wolf snarled and his grip lessened. Taking the opportunity she yanked her wrist from his jaws and sprinted as fast as she could cradling her right wrist.

By now the pack had caught up with the leader and his quarry. They were in hot pursuit. Serafina did not have much of a lead, and she new she was no match for the over sized wolves. About twenty metres away she saw a tree. She ran with all her might, willing her legs to turn over faster. The wolves were snapping at her heals and she was beginning to stumble. By some kind of miracle she reached the tree. Well it was mire like she lunged at the tree's first branch, and held on for dear life. Serafina didn't trust trees – trees broke, their branches fell, they just weren't stable. But at that very second she had not other choice. The wolves were snapping at her dangling heals. She swung her legs up to grab the branch and – with great difficulty - positioned herself so that she was balancing on the branch.

Serafina was hoping dreadfully that wolves could not climb trees. She knew that generally they could not, but these wolves were not so normal in size, maybe they did climb trees.

Not trusting the branch she was on and thinking she was far too close to the wolves below Serafina started to climb upwards and towards the centre. She eventually settled on a sturdy branch close to the trunk where she had an excellent view of the wolves below.

They were jumping at the tree and howling at the base, willing the tree to fall. After watching them for several minutes in sheer panic, Serafina realised they could not in fact limb trees and she was safe as long as she was in the tree, which to Serafina was a complete contradiction as in her opinion trees were not safe places.

She stole a moment to inspect her wrist and palms. Her hands were fine. Nothing daylight and a bit of pulling wouldn't fix. As for her wrist, that was a different story. It was bleeding quite terribly, and the use of it while climbing had not helped the situation. It needed to be bound immediately – she knew that. Normally she would wait until she was safe on solid ground, but right now she didn't have that luxury; the wolves did not look to be leaving any time soon. After making sure she was indeed stable she tore some pieces of cloth from her tunic and bound her wrist tightly cringing with pain. She wished also that she had water to wash the wound, but she had to make do without. Sighing at the predicament she was in, and the relief of the safety she had found in an unlikely place, she held on tightly to the trunk with her left hand and waited for the wolves to leave and for morning to come, then she would be truly safe again in daylight.


	13. Chapter 13

A/N: ok ok…please do NOT die from a heart attack. I have recently finished traveling and am settling down and have decided to continue with the story. You are all entitled to hate me for not posting for a year and a bit but hey…you can't kill me. AND you don't know where I live so u can't try.

Picking up the story again has been a bit hard. Sorry if I don't write the same as I used to but I'm trying to keep it consistent.

Yes, I admit… I am lazy. There I said it.

Disclaimer: don't own em…wish I did.

Chapter Thirteen

Serafina watched intently as the party of nine drifted slowly off to sleep. Her arm was almost numb – she had strapped it to her chest, trying desperately to limit the movement and the pain. There was nothing she could do about the infection; she didn't even have water to drink let alone basic healing provisions.

The thief had been following the party for the past two days – intent on stealing some of their supplies. She was not stupid; Serafina knew she could not survive on her own in the wild, however she also knew that she couldn't have these people discovering her presence…Boromir was with them. Serafina could not trust the protection of anyone when he was in the picture.

Once the hobbits were snoring peacefully, Serafina pondered the strange mix of company. It was an extremely curious combination of characters: four hobbits, Strider – or was it Aragorn, an Elf, a Dwarf, a Wizard and Boromir. She knew the hobbits all by name, was sufficiently acquainted with the ranger, had met the Wizard in passing and was far better acquainted with the son of the Seward of Gondor than she would prefer – which left the Dwarf and Elf to occupy the majority if her attention.

After two days following the party, the thief had already developed a liking of the dwarf; his temperament reminded her a lot of her own. However the elf brought on quite other feelings, although Serafina's dealings with his kind did make it difficult to view any elf in a rosy light. The pompous importance he carried with him was he walked did not escape her notice, nor her censure. No, Serafina did not like the elves – this one was no exception.

As she watched her mind wandered. She watched the Son of the Steward; his face oh-so-familiar even with twelve years past. Serafina had seen so many emotions on that man's face as a child. He had not changed one ounce, the thief wondered at how he could recognise her after such a long time, but then, he wasn't one to forget.

_The steward's son sat, staring. He never moved, not an inch if he could help it, and he hardly spoke. Part of Boromir thought this girl worth nothing. To that part of him she deserved no thought, no time. However another side wanted to understand, how such a seemingly innocent child could commit such an act, and just sit there, somehow able to live with herself._

_He watched her through the bars, watched her as she squirmed beneath his relentless gaze. Each day he tormented her this way. She was only a child yes, but that did not matter to him anymore._

_The young girl in the cell felt his eyes on her. Occasionally she looked up to see if he was still watching, then quickly adverted her gaze. Serafina was upset. She was upset that she had failed Garth. He had raised her, shown her how to steal. Stealing was her life – it was all she knew, how she ate, how she survived._

_Garth had asked her to do him a favour, he'd been very specific. He needed someone small, sneaky and fast, someone capable. Serafina had glowed with pride when he had picked her for the job. _

_The young girl didn't really have a problem with her task. Someone in the castle was going to give Garth a lot of money for what Serafina would do, and what was good for Garth was good for her. _

_It was a perfect plan as far as assassinations go. But not everything always falls as per planned. Garth and his noble contact had slaved over the ins and outs of the operation. Serafina would go unnoticed. She would do her job and get out before anyone knew what had happened. It was important that she was not caught or there was no money for Garth._

_No one was counting on Boromir to come back from his visit to Rohan so early. His sudden arrival threw the palace into disarray, and Serafina, although the job had been done was caught. _

_At so young an age Serafina believed that was Garth said was lore. If Garth said the Advisor to the Steward had to die then he did. She did not fully understand life and death, or the consequences of playing with it. And those realisations would not come to her in the cell. Only after she was free would she understand what she did, for to understand is to have experienced._

She pulled her mind back to the present, she shrugged off the feelings of the past. She had a situation to deal with here, that situation was now long gone.

The thief did not need to wait much longer until all bar the watchman were asleep. Serafina knew she could have had no better luck than to have the dwarf as a watchman. Diligent as he may be at his duty she knew that the dwarves were not strong when it came to the abilities of the senses.

Serafina crept soundlessly towards the dim light of the coals. Precious leftovers remained from their supper. The niggle of curiosity still plagued her mind as to what these people where doing together, but that too was pushed aside as she concentrated on supplying herself with food and provisions for a few nights. Collecting everything was considerably more difficult than she was expecting with the use of only her left arm.

She was just making her way to Strider's pack to find some sort of dressing for her wound when a sliver of cool metal slid firmly into place around her neck from behind. The thief froze. She glanced at the sleeping forms in her view; Gandalf, Boromir and the hobbits. This left Gimli on duty. Either Strider or the Elf was behind her. Serafina swallowed, and prayed very, very quickly.


	14. Chapter 14

A/N: well I guess I'm back from the dead. I really hope no one stays mad at me for not updating for a year and a half. And I hope I can pick up the story well. But I said all this last time…

Umm… there isn't anything important you all should know… other than if u don't review I'll probably lose interest so yea…

Disclaimer: you know it

Chapter Fourteen

Serafina raised her good arm slowly towards her head as instructed, and turned around. The thief was faced with both Strider and Legolas, and was less than amused. Legolas was positively furious; his eyes bore holes into the girl's skin. However despite the Elf's displeasure Serafina could see a small smile playing on the ranger's mouth.

Strider's smile faded quickly when his eyes passed over her arm. They lingered there for a moment before he raised an eyebrow at her, but he did not say a word.

It was Gandalf who broke the silence. Serafina figured he must have woken in the few seconds she'd had her back turned, she thought this a little odd but then, he _was_ a wizard.

"Now I did say that we would meet again, did I not?" the wizard asked comically, as he walked around the fireplace to face her, "Now, dear girl, please what in Eru's name are you doing here? What has happened to your wrist? And Legolas please lower you knife."

"Humph?" came a questioning and slightly offended sound from the other side of the fire. All eyes turned to be met with the sight of a very confused and disgruntled dwarf. Gimli stood there facing them with his axe raised in suspicion. Aragorn shook his head at him and Gimli sighed put his axe away and sat back down at his post; murmuring something about how they must have been playing a trick on him, for a Dwarf misses nothing.

Serafina was tired, hungry and in unrelenting pain from the wolf bite, and did not appreciate the jovial tone in the wizards voice. She did not see the humor in the situation that Strider and the Wizard did, she was as serious as Legolas, and the fact that her emotions matched that of the Elf's did not sit well with her.

She squared her jaw. Somehow she knew she had to get out of this. She could _not_ travel with them, she refused to, and even if she tried Boromir would likely cut her head off. The immediate reaction was to fight her way out… but thankfully the rational side of her brain ruled that out. Serafina's heart sank as she realized she was completely at their mercy, she had no control.

Aragorn watched the girl; her emotions were displayed as clearly on her face as paint is on canvas. He hardly knew her, true, but Aragorn knew enough of her antics to see she was struggling with her very apparent lack of control. He glanced at Gandalf, and could clearly see that his friend was pleased and unconcerned with Serafina's 'surprise' entrance, and began to wonder if he was indeed expecting her all along. Moving his gaze on to Legolas, Aragorn sensed impatience, fury and confusion as to why a girl would be wandering in the wilderness.

The ranger was extremely surprised when she opened her mouth to speak.

She could not stay and she could not fight her way out. Instead she would have to find another way. After all, the thief still had her pride.

"I am not here to ask for your help. I came here to take it." Her voice was determined and strong; Serafina paused and looked at her audience of three. Her resolution formed, she would not give in to them – not even now. "And since I have been caught I will leave you with your belongings and your supplies. In exchange for this I would like my freedom."

Gandalf simply raised his eyebrows at this little pride driven statement. The elf scoffed. But the man glared.

All amiable thoughts that Aragorn had held for her up until that moment had now dissolved. The pride she had! The unwillingness to admit defeat and ask for assistance! He knew that with her half-bound wound it would easily get infected, and he guessed she knew the same; otherwise she would not have tried to steal his healing supplies, but still she refused to even be offered help.

Gandalf decided to end this matter, and boomed, "Do not be so foolish child! You cannot, rather evidently, find your way alone in the wild. Your wrist is severely wounded and you probably haven't eaten in days." He continued in a gentler manner, "You shall stay with us until you are fit to continue on your own or until it is safe for you to leave us. You shall have no choice on the matter, my word is final. You shall ask no questions of why we are here, and if you do you shall not be answered." Gandalf gave her a meaningful look that made the thief shiver; Serafina felt his eyes bore into her. Then Gandalf continued, "Aragorn, tend to her wounds. Legolas get some rest, the next watch it yours. Gimli, try to keep watch, we don't want any more thieves stealing our food, do we?" and with that the wizard promptly made his way to his blanket roll and lay down.

Serafina had never felt more like a child then she did in that moment. It was a very alien feeling to the thief, she had been responsible for herself since a very young age and to be told what to do and to obey was a foreign concept to her.

She watched as the ranger played with the fire and some funny smelly weed. All kindness from his face that she had seen earlier was gone. In its place was bitterness, his face seemed stone cold. She sighed in relief; at least she didn't have to worry about trying to be nice to him. She didn't sit. The thief stood on the opposite side of the fire to him. She was not in a pleasant mood and had every intention of making sure he knew that she did not appreciate his help, nor did she want it – Serafina was intent on making this as awkward as possible. No one told her what she could or could not do.

Aragorn decided to leave her standing. He was not sure what his previous conclusion of her was but now all he could focus on was her pride.

"Come here." Aragorn said unfeelingly to her, without looking up. "Sit." He commanded.

Her wrist was a mess. The ranger cringed inwardly when he examined it. Then looked up at her questioningly, "How did you come by this injury?"

"I thought it looked pretty so I stole it from a rich man." Came the fast retort. There eyes met in a cold glare. Serafina continued, "I have a weakness for all things pretty…"

Aragorn would not stand for insolence and glanced pointedly towards Boromir's bedroll. He did not know what was between them but he knew she was afraid of him.

Serafina seethed at his hide and bit back quickly, "I was walking in the pretty woods one nice when a lovely wolf and I decided to play fetch, the rules got a bit hazy and he confused my wrist with a stick. But he apologized and there are no hard feelings."

He raised his eyebrows but made no more threats.

"Well Serafina, you picked and interesting wolf to play with. In fact it was no wolf, it-"

"I know what I saw."

Aragorn took a breath before replying in an icy tone, "Evidently you do not. That was no wolf; it was in fact a warg. This is far too swollen to be a wolf bite. How many nights ago was this tragic game of fetch?"

Serafina looked at him quizzically, "Three nights… what is a warg?"

"It's what bit you."

The girl fumed, her temper was not good at the best of times and she found her tether wearing thin. Somehow she managed to swallow her harsh retort before it left her mouth, and sat in silence as he cleaned the bite.

Aragorn noticed that she sat very still. He knew the sort of pain she was in; he had been on the receiving end of a warg bite long ago, but he remembered it well. He was slightly impressed by her will power, but then he never expected her to make a sound to display and discomfort… she had far too much pride for that. He felt her eyes on him. They never left.

She was scrutinizing him as though she were staring at some puzzle, something that must be blindingly obvious that she couldn't quite put her finger on. And indeed she was – Serafina was trying to figure out the meaning of the name Aragorn. She knew that name, she knew it held some sort of purpose and meaning but she couldn't find it.

It was Aragorn who eventually broke the silence, "What are you doing here, Serafina?" his voice was soft and tired, Serafina thought long and hard about how to reply. Finally she sighed and let down her guard,

"I'm lost; of all the things I stole from Elrond I forgot a map." She paused, "I did look over one before I left but I've never traveled alone before, I thrive in cities, not in the wild."

Aragorn chuckled slightly, and looked up in time to see the thief grin sheepishly, if only for a second. "Where were you headed?"

"Gondor or Rohan…whichever I stumbled on first, really."

"Those cities are far away, you must know that."

"If I could have stolen a horse I would have. But I got caught every time. None of my Elvin friends would let me borrow one either, although I can't imagine why…"

"No, Serafina… me either." Aragorn paused, and then looked at her seriously. "I agree with Gandalf that we cannot leave you out here alone, however you need to understand that you are under no circumstances safe with us."

The girl assessed his face; his eyes spoke worlds to her, of concern and duty – however unwanted. "I realized that in Bree, Strider. I know who those riders serve. And I will figure this riddle out. I don't know why they are hunting you, but you can be sure I will know. And don't forget Strider, I can hold my own."

"Shall I get a second opinion of that?" he asked with a glint in his eye. "From perhaps…" he glanced at her wrist, "said wolf?"

Serafina grinned, truly grinned and replied, "Oh, you'd be welcome to," she said coyly, "but you see I don't play fair; after he apologized I killed him. So it seems if said wolf – or was it warg – could voice his opinion, I'd wager it'd be supporting my competency."

…………………….

Here ends chapter 14. I need sleep. Now review dammit! REVIEW !!!


	15. Chapter 15

A/N: well i live on. I apologise profusely for being so slack and slow. I also apologise if my writing isn't as good as it used to be. But i AM trying.

I hope all of my lovely readers are well... i am... just busy.

Disclaimer: you know the drill...

Chapter Fifteen

Three days had now passed since Serafina joined the group, and it was evident that she was not at ease in their presence. The thief had attempted to find easy company with the hobbits – yet they had become wary of the girl, Frodo especially. His reactions to her stated his obvious desire to be far from her person. Sam attempted to be slightly more courteous but stuck to his friend. The remaining two hobbits seemed caught between curiosity and duty to their kinsman.

Her days consisted of rising, eating sparsely, walking, eating, walking, eating, arm attending and finally sleep. Serafina was never called upon to watch – part of her badly wanted to contest this exclusion, then she promptly remembered that she didn't want to be part of the company in the first place and held her tongue. These were not a pleasant few days for the girl, she would have preferred to have no companions and the ones she now had to deal with would have been the last she would have selected for a pointless journey through the wilderness.

Her wrist was healing so slowly that it may have been getting worse – Serafina found it difficult to tell. Yet the wizard and ranger seemed pleased enough. Every evening Aragorn would clean it and dress it, Serafina used this time to try and prize information from him which was, in itself, an exercise in futility. The ranger found her company to be a frustrating mix of pride, wit and stubbornness though somehow he sensed and underlying current of vulnerability and sadness or regret - however he frequently doubted its existence.

He feared for her safety at times, Boromir was hardly happy for her to be accompanying them - Aragorn had watched earlier that day as Merry and Pippin's curiosity had taken hold and cringed outwardly at the memory –

"_Serafina, are you really a thief?" Merry asked as he, Pippin and the girl were packing away the remainders of their midday meal. Serafina merely smiled and nodded in reply._

"_Well," interjected Pippin, "if you're a thief doesn't that make you a bad person? I mean good people don't steal."_

_But before Serafina could even attempt to defend her questionable profession Merry cut in, "Generally Pip. Generally good people don't steal – I mean I wouldn't call what we was doing stealing but sometimes I got the impression that farmer Maggot has a different opinion."_

"_Well we _are_ good people and we wasn't stealing we just pinched some... well he had plenty anyway. What difference is a couple o' potatoes and carrots and cabbages and such going to make to his crop" refuted Pippin. _

"_Ah, you see that's just it!" exclaimed the thief, "This Farmer Maggot, he was probably a mean sort, wasn't he?"_

"_Well he was never very pleasant to us," agreed Pippin._

"_And that's because you always stole from him," interrupted Frodo "How could he be expected to be hospitable to young hobbits that steal?"_

"_But we wasn't stealing!" cried Merry, "Not strictly speaking anyway, Pip said it right – we just pinched stuff, that's all. Therefore he has no reason to begrudge us." He finished triumphantly, sticking his hands in his braces and standing as tall as his small frame would allow. _

_Serafina looked at the small hobbits standing near her and gave a small smile. "I agree with you Merry, he has no reason to begrudge you, and if he does it is his problem to deal with. You are no thief. I am, and I am proud. I do what I do well." The girl looked sideways at Merry and Pippin and grinned cheekily._

"_Yes, but why-"began Pippin but he was cut off before he could finish his question. Unfortunately another member of the company who did not take the subject of theft so lightly was also listening._

"_You still think this is a game don't you?" he said quietly, addressing the thief but he was loud enough for the company to fall silent immediately "Well this is no game. I care not if you bring harm on yourself – well deserved as that would be – but I have sworn an oath to protect Frodo and this company and I-"_

"_Boromir!" warned the wizard, "Do you forget the purpose of our secrecy?"_

_Boromir nodded submissively and turned his addresses to the hobbits, "You would do well to pay the thief no mind. She does not deserve your time."_

"_Oh please! Just because they are smaller than you doesn't mean they are young and incapable of deciding who they may or may not have a conversation with." came Serafina's hot retort._

"_I still do not understand why we did not leave you to the wolves." cried the son of the steward._

"_Wargs." She corrected_

"_What?"_

"_Wargs, not wolves."_

"_You wretched, ungrateful li-"but Boromir stopped himself short he had been interrupted by laughter from Aragorn. He looked between the ranger and the thief and she was grinning in return, glad that he appreciated her correction, just as Aragorn had corrected her three nights before. Boromir was livid – the girl had no respect, no sense of responsibility._

"_What was his name thief?"he asked quietly._

"_I don't know what you're talking about."_

"_The little boy that was beheaded on the day of your execution. Instead of you."_

_Serafina's head snapped back. The company was dead silent, no one knew of the connection the son of the Steward of Gondor had with the thief from Bree. Aragorn and the Hobbits knew she was originally from the lands of Gondor, but nothing more. What the wizard knew was anyone's guess. Yet what Boromir was saying made perfect sense to the girl. Her face had lost all traces of joy and cheek. Only anger and hatred remained. The hobbits took some steps away, the elf and dwarf that had been uninterested in this conversation we're suddenly transfixed. Aragorn was wary, he didn't know what either of them would do next. Then Boromir spoke._

"_He begged and pleaded and cried until he no longer had a head to cry with."_

_With that comment the thief sprang towards him, yelling curses. She hit him square in the nose with her left hand. Boromir recovered quick enough to give her a black eye before Aragorn pulled him away, Legolas was left to pull the maddened thief away to safety. _

_..._

The ranger sighed as the memory faded, and began to look for an appropriate place to set up camp for the night. Serafina had been flanked by Gimli for the remainder of the day – Gandalf had assigned him the duty of keeping her away from the other travellers. Boromir, whose nose had only recently stopped bleeding, had not said a word since the fight. Aragorn had a few things to ask the thief that night when he dressed her Warg bite – her period of grace was over.

...

a/n

P.S. Im sorry... but at least im still working on it. Even if I am extremely slow. I just hope it lives up to expectations, but be gentle with your reviews if it doesn't...


	16. Chapter 16

Chapter Sixteen

"What happened?"

Serafina looked up into the rangers grey eyes. She was still visibly shaken; she had looked no one in the eye since her last interaction with Boromir. Her green eyes were sad and all traces of mischief and cheek were hidden. Aragorn could not help but marvel at this girl, she was something new every day, though the person she had been today had taken him by surprise. He did not know much about her, but he knew that he preferred the difficult, infuriating thief to this desolate creature that sat before him.

He continued to watch her as he waited for a response; her eyes fell from his and came to rest on his neck. She was merely staring at whatever was in front of her but her eyes on his neck made him self conscious.

His neck was bare. He had made his decision and her father had agreed. Arwen had left and he no longer carried her jewel. She could not stay. Aragorn said his goodbyes before the party had departed Rivendell; there was a war to fight and a quest to rival all quests to be accomplished. If she had chosen to stay and he did not live, her mortal life would be pointless.

A sudden intake of breath pulled him back to the present. He looked up to see Serafina staring yet again into his eyes, but it was a different gaze. She had decided something.

"Olin. The boy Boromir spoke of. His name was Olin."

Aragorn knew she had just revealed great confidence in him, yet he could not know what the true significance of this name was. He decided not to answer but began his nightly task of redressing her wounded wrist.

"I'm not going to tell you about Olin, or why he died for me. You are free to draw your own conclusions concerning the circumstance. But you must know," she paused as she said this and grabbed his arm with her left hand to make him look at her, "you must know that I didn't mean it to happen. Not Olin. I knew nothing of an execution." Her desperate green eyes board into his as she said this. Aragorn felt pity well up inside of him.

"I will pass no judgement on you. But I will ask questions." His resolved hardened as he remembered his decision to get to the bottom of the hatred between Serafina and Boromir.

"You can ask but I will not answer."

"Then why confide in me?"

The thief paused before she made a reply. Then she spoke tentatively, "Because he needs to be remembered - even if it is only his name. He will be remembered by Boromir, certainly, but for all the wrong reasons. He will be remembered by me but I do not deserve even his memory." She paused again before continuing slower again, "To be remembered by someone else, someone who knows only that he died for... a person, well he deserves that." She finished lamely.

Aragorn made no reply but continued dressing her wound. It was healing, but terribly slowly. He wondered why Serafina had divulged this information to him. He had expected he would have to probe a bit further to penetrate her childish, carefree facade. And even though she wasn't exactly forthcoming with tales of her past, for Serafina this was almost an overwhelming rush of information.

It was a long while before either of them spoke.

"It will be a long time, Serafina, before we reach anywhere that will be safe enough for us to part. You are going to have to come to some sort of understanding with Boromir.

"I don't need to do any such thing, ranger! The day that landed me in the Steward's goal is one of the two days in my life that I regret. The other is when Olin switched places with me in the gaol – the day Boromir planned to have me murdered. Olin knew. I didn't. I need no peace treaty with the Son of the Steward, and I don't need his forgiveness, much less his understanding."

"Be as stubborn as you will. But I will not have you hitting a member of the fellowship again," Aragorn lowered his voice as he continued, "I cannot swear to protect you, but I believe you would throw my oath to the wolves in any case."

Serafina flinched. His soft words hit her in the chest like the bow of a boat swinging as it changes direction. She did not know what to say in return. Slowly, the thief realised that Aragorn was the only person in this company that had offered her the slightest sliver of friendship, in spite of everything that she was. She watched him as he continued cleaning her wounds. He held her arm gently with one hand. With his other hand he slowly washed away the dirt and infection with a cloth soaked in herbal liquid. After washing came the application of balm and various herbs to help with infection. His hands worked surely and gently as they always did. He never looked up. As he began to re-dress her wrist Serafina remembered another riddle.

"Aragorn." She said, frowning.

"Yes?" He answered, still not looking up.

"No. Aragorn.... Aragorn is your name."

Finally he raised his grey eyes to scrutinise her. "And is there a problem with that?"

"No. Well, yes. Maybe." The thief was unsure and no longer watching him. She was looking around as if searching for an answer that was hiding from her in the dark. Aragorn watched her, unsure if he liked where this topic was going. Her confusion was certainly amusing, but he hoped that she wouldn't progress past confusion, at least not yet.

"There is something about your name." The girl continued, "Like it's something I remember from a children's story, well something I'm trying to remember." She looked into his eyes sharply. "Is there any reason for that?"

Aragorn smiled in answer, but it didn't quite reach his eyes and he knew she would see it. So he replied, "The significance of my name is of no importance to you."

"On the contrary," she answered heartily, "It is very important to me. I don't like being left not knowing answers to questions. I don't like it at all. At the moment I have so many questions which no one will answer and you won't even tell me why I feel like I know your name."

At this point Serafina realised that he had finished dressing her wrist already and was holding her arm gently in both of his hands. Aragorn took a deep breath and placed her arm onto her lap. "Don't go looking for answers Serafina, if you are not prepared to accept them, whatever they are."

"What do you mean by that?"

"I mean precisely what I said, nothing more." He paused, a frown spread across his face, "Come here," He said, lifting his hands to her face. He tilted her chin until her bruised eye caught the light. Serafina watched as his face grew stony. She could see that there would evidently be no more conversation though it was difficult to tell if that was because of the previous topic or because of the effect her blackened eye had on him. She felt his eyes on her face – boring into her skin like the focused ray of light from a magnifying glass burns parchment. His eyes and his hands were from different people, they hand to be. His hand under her chin held her steady, holding her like one might hold a bird, careful not to damage something so fragile. He began to rub a cooling salve around her eye ever so carefully, slowly working in. The balm was a welcome relief from both the hot swelling of her puffy eye and from the unrelenting heat of his gaze. Serafina finally closed her eyes. Beneath his gentle touch, she could feel the roughness of his skin so acutely on her face. Everything about his manner with her was a contradiction. The girl tried to focus on the burning of his glance – whatever it was, anger, disgust, disapproval, it was much easier to deal with than the light caress of his hands.

Suddenly she felt his hands drop from her face, she kept her eyes closed as he stood, almost afraid of what she might see in his face. Serafina heard him murmur something that could have been goodnight and felt the cool breeze blow past as he walked to the other side of the camp.

The girl opened her eyes and surveyed the camp. The hobbits were asleep, Gimli was snoring. The elf could have been away or asleep – it was sometimes difficult to tell. Only the men and the wizard were still moving about. Serafina watched as Aragorn joined Gandalf and Boromir by the fire. Sighing she prepared her bed were she sat, slightly away from the rest of the party. As she began to drift into sleep Serafina felt the warmth of the fire lighting one side of her face. The sensation felt similar to the Rangers eyes. The girl turned away from the fire and drifted into a troubled sleep, where hot eyes burnt her back and neck and cool hands caressed her face.


	17. Chapter 17

Chapter Seventeen

Serafina woke the next day feeling sluggish. Her eye was swollen and sore, and the noises of breakfast and packing up camp were loud and unwelcome. The hobbits whispered and pointed at her puffy eye, Gimli was not so tactful.

"Well good morning lass!" He bellowed with a chuckle, "You're a sight for sore eyes this mornin', pretty as a she dwarf on mid-summers night!"

Gimli's comment was greeted with guilty laughter from the men, wizard and a half-smile from the elf.

"Are she dwarves pretty then?" asked Pippin with a mouthful of bread.

The elf bent low to the inquisitive hobbit in appearance to keep his answer between them, but his clear smooth voice rang out, audible to the entire company.

"She dwarves, Pippin, are generally a hand shorter than friend Gimli, a span wider and equally as hairy. Most men and elves find it difficult to distinguish between male and female dwarves, except on mid-summers night when the she dwarves braid flowers into their hair and beards, and dance and sing all night long until they are red with exhaustion and until their voices are as course as the hair on their chests." Legolas paused for effect and Pippin looked between Serafina, Gimli and Legolas then swallowed. "Pretty?" Legolas asked to finish with silky innocence.

Pippin was saved answering by the strangled laughs from the fellowship. Serafina's face was definitely as red now as a she dwarf on mid-summers night. She shared her glare between all members of the fellowship. Few would meet her gaze but their amusement was clear on their faces.

Serafina deliberately avoided all conversation for the remainder of the morning. While they were walking she walked alone. She was sulking, that much was quite clear. By lunch time the jovial mood of the company still remained, they had stopped on a rocky outcrop. Serafina assumed that some explanation or history about the place had been shared – yet this didn't interest her, especially not today. The hobbits prepared lunch and discussion began on the route the fellowship should take next. From the bits that the thief listened to Gimli was set on going through the mines of Moria. Gandalf disregarded this opinion completely was informing the company about the Gap of Rohan. Serafina watched as the hobbits became as disinterested with the conversation as she was, and moved away to practice their swordcraft. The girl followed, and sat watching from a short distance. Merry and Pippin were obviously in desperate need of some tutelage, they kept accidentally hurting themselves and each other when they didn't mean to.

It wasn't long before Boromir and Aragorn came over to assist. Serafina sighed at the sight of them both; she was not sure which one she wanted to see less today. Boromir was never a welcome sight, but for some unknown reason he was slightly more tolerable today. Perhaps it was the satisfaction for him to see her face mangled and puffy that made him slightly more courteous. Perhaps it was Gimli's slight on her appearance. Whatever the reason, Serafina found Boromir's presence less aggravating than yesterday and was too distracted by the other man to focus hate and loathing on the Son of the Steward.

Aragorn, she had avoided all day. Though she thought that perhaps he had been avoiding her as well. His presence was completely unsettling. A shiver ran down her spine as she remembered his eyes from the night before. Hastily she pushed the memory away.

Serafina was interrupted from her thoughts by a call from one of the most unlikely people to seek her attention, "Hey! She dwarf! Come; let's see how well you defend yourself with one arm and one eye!" cried the Son of the Steward.

Screwing up all of her determination the girl stood and walked over to the men and hobbits. She did not want to. But pride called as it so often does, and Serafina answered. Aragorn was sitting a short distance away from Boromir, with the out-of-breath hobbits. Serafina didn't spare them a glance as she walked past.

"So Serafina, you claim to be good with your knives," began Boromir standing squarely in front of her.

"I am good with my knives."

"Unfortunately for you, before your knives reach your opponent you will have been run through with a sword. You would do better to give your knives over to the hobbits to aid food preparation. Here," he said as he flung a short sword at her feet, "use this."

Serafina risked a glance in Aragorn's direction; he was watching with the same intensity in his glance as the night before, but his face was impassive. The hobbits were easier to read. They held a curious mixture of unease and innocent rapture on their faces. Serafina wasn't filled with courage.

The thief took a deep breath and set her jaw. Bending down to pick up the sword she tried to prepare herself mentally for the imminent fight. But she felt as though her composure kept slipping away. Straightening up she heard the whoosh of air as Boromir readied himself with his sword. He moved as if the sword was an old friend practicing a well known dance the two of them loved like nothing else. Tentatively Serafina tightened her left handed grip on the weapon and lowered her injured arm by her side – there was no point keeping it tucked up as she normally did, she knew she would need it for balance. As she lifted her eyes to meet the man's, a wolfish grin spread across his face; he was ready.

Suddenly he moved towards her in what she assumed was a lung. He quick reflexes saved her and she blocked the blow. Before she had time to compose herself or regain her strength he was swinging at her again – this time from a different angle, Serafina had just enough time to duck quickly under it and reappear around the other side of him. In the split second she gained from changing sides Serafina tried to form an attack, she lunged desperately towards him and he waved her sword off in a block that appeared as effortless as a horse flicking its tail to rid itself of flies. They continued this was for a minute or so until Boromir with shaming ease flicked her sword out from her grasp. In an instant reaction Serafina ducked around him and reached for her knives with both hands. She kicked at his arms in a desperate attempt to disarm him, but his grip was too strong.

"Do you see thief? Your knives cannot reach me at all," came the victorious cry from Boromir.

Suddenly Serafina smiled, cheek and mischievousness spilled over her bruised and red face. Boromir's victorious expression faltered as he took in her smile. Two small shouts of war came from behind Boromir as Merry and Pippin came to Serafina's aid. Within minutes the hobbits had Boromir defeated on the ground, and Aragorn had roused himself to help Boromir. Serafina sheathed her knives and began to walk away. She had only walked three steps when Legolas spotted a low black cloud moving closer.

A/N: Please read and review if you would like. Thanks for reading and I hope you are enjoying it.


	18. Chapter 18

Chapter Eighteen

Serafina watched as the company quickly realised that the cloud was in fact no cloud, and she stood quite still until someone yelled "Hide!"

Suddenly she sprang into motion, stumbling over rocks she didn't see with her one functional eye. Finally she found a large shrub that she slid under. Its foliage was sparse and spiky and it left white scratches on her dry skin. Through the leaves she could see the remainder of her companions running for cover, Aragorn was the last. Stamping out the fire and grabbing a few stray belongings, he darted towards the overhanging rocks by her and took cover. Serafina's heart began to hammer in her chest – she could now hear the screeches of the birds and the clapping of their wings as they approached.

Nothing could prevent her though from gasping as the birds appeared in view. They acted as one; one mind, one eye. Serafina flattened her body closer into the rock beneath her, and she caught the ranger in her glance. He was looking skyward, frowning at the birds. He turned his head and their eyes met. Serafina knew that in that moment he could read her emotions like he could read a trail left in dried mud. She had no way of hiding her fear. In his eyes she saw only a warning – 'do not move'.

Eventually the moment passed and it was safe to emerge. The hobbits looked as scared as Serafina felt, though the thief's fear had moved beyond the simple fear from the moment passed and onto fear of what she was slowly become entwined in – whatever these strangers were bound together on, whatever the mission, it was dangerous. Serafina had been a fool to scoff and the ranger's talk of protection the night before. The girl was beginning to see that maybe it was true – he certainly could not vow to protect anyone if the quest they were on was as dangerous as she suspected.

Serafina stood quite still next to the shrub she had hid under, the company began to argue about which way was safest again. The spies were Saruman's – the Gap of Rohan was no longer an option. Gandalf wanted to take them over the Misty Mountains, Gimli and Aragorn were of the mind that the Moria was the safest option. Serafina was transfixed. How she became involved in such a dangerous group of people on an obviously dangerous quest was beyond her. She sent up her first prayer in a long time, she prayed for protection and for deliverance from this company.

After the decision had been finalised to attempt to conquer the mountain Gandalf approached the thief and put a hand on her shoulder.

"We must hurry Serafina, time is against us."

Serafina did not answer, she looked away from him.

"Come girl, this is no time for a tantrum or for a battle of wills because rest assured I will win."

Serafina raised her head to look the wizard in the eyes, "How could I fight you anyway? What have you done to ignite the wrath of another wizard? What evil does this company toy with?"

"That is none of your concern, little one."

Serafina's tether snapped, she hissed at him, "None of my concern? Your business is well my concern! If you had have let me go on my way then this would be none of my business, but you did not. You forced me to travel with you and by doing so you have put me in danger that I cannot even begin to fathom! Aragorn talks of not being able to protect me even if he wanted to. What evil do you serve?"

"We serve no evil girl, we fight it. That is enough for you for the moment." His sternness faded as he regarded her then he continued with a sympathetic smile, "Come, we have a long way to travel before nightfall."

Serafina walked beside Merry and Pippin for the remainder of the afternoon and evening. They were out of spirits and not in the mood for conversation, which suited the thief just fine. After she became too scared of thinking through the different possibilities of the fellowships business, she began thinking of easier days, not too long ago, when life was simple; steal or starve. True there wasn't much glamorous about her life, stealing was never as rewarding as it should have been. Anything worth real money always had to be divided up between parties because the mission was too complex to be completed alone. Still things were not as confusing or difficult as now. Food was easier to come by and it wasn't shared between her and nine males – four of whom being hobbits. Her days before had been less taxing and her spirits had not been so low in quite a while.

Perhaps she would be able to confront Aragorn about their business tonight, when he was redressing her wrist. Her stomach flipped at the thought of his gentle hands. This memory was quickly followed by the unsummoned image of Aragorn dressed in royal silks and velvets, with Elrond's daughter Arwen on his arm. The thief scowled so hard until she guessed her face really did resemble a she dwarf; she then proceeded to avoid the thought of him for the rest of the afternoon.

Setting up camp that evening was a cheerless affair. They had walked until a few hours after dusk before Gandalf had finally called a halt. As usual firewood had to be gathered, though fortunately this would not be a difficult task tonight. They were spending the night in a large clearing on top of a small rise. The surrounding forest was sparse and dry, and it was not long before a happy fire crackled, waiting to cook their dinner.

It was as the hobbits were finishing the last scraps of food that they heard it. Ten heads snapped up from whatever they were concentrating on and ten bodies froze. Then it came again. Serafina was the first to recover, she sprang up and within a second both of her hands held daggers. Somewhere in her head she noted the pain of gripping anything with her right hand, but more so than earlier that day this was a necessity. Suddenly the camp was in a frenzy of action. The wolves cry came again, yet just like Serafina had heard last time this cry was answered by the rest of the pack. Aragorn had taken charge of the situation. He'd ordered more wood piled onto the fire and was instructing the hobbits to stay close to Gandalf and not to leave the fire.

Serafina set her jaw and moved closer to the fire. Aragorn joined her momentarily.

"Whatever you do," he began, "do not leave the fire."

The girl nodded briskly in answer.

"Wait here" he said to her and was gone.

The thief looked around her, the hobbits looked so small and frightened that Serafina forgot about her own fear for a moment and she stationed herself in front of them on the opposite side to Gandalf, who was speaking encouraging words to the four of them. Boromir looked positively excited, his sword dancing in his hands already in anticipation. Gimli was grumbling words unintelligible to the girl's ears; however Legolas seemed to understand and replied to him in an aloof tone, the two of them seemed as calm as if they were getting ready for a stroll through Elrond's garden.

Suddenly Aragorn was back by her side. He nodded to her daggers, "Put those away, they will not help you."

Serafina looked at him questioningly, "You would have me fight them off with my hands?"

Aragorn didn't even bother answering but held up to her the same short sword Boromir had flung at her feet earlier that day, and a flaming torch. Serafina hurried to sheathe her knives, and grabbed the sword. "Use the sword with your left hand if you must. Try to stay out of harm's way if you can. This is for your right hand," he said wrapping her fingers tightly about the torch, "this should discourage them. They fear fire."

With a solemn glance he was gone from her side. Serafina reached deep inside herself to pluck up some courage. She stood as tall and confidently as she could. This time there were people by her side, and there were those who needed protection more than she. Somehow she would survive this.

A/N: Disclaimer – Don't own it.

Please review – it makes the process of writing so much more enjoyable


	19. Chapter 19

Chapter Nineteen

Serafina stood ready. She listened to a constant inner monologue of encouraging thoughts. She prayed.

The company didn't have to wait for long. The instant the first animal came into sight Serafina made a mental note – wargs, not wolves. In that same instant Boromir, Legolas, Gimli and Aragorn swept into motion. The five of them moved with such confidence that Serafina became distracted with their complicated dance, however her distraction didn't last long. There were more wargs than warriors, it was only a matter of time before one crept through.

Serafina adjusted her stance as a warg closed in. She realise that Aragorn had been right about the fire when she saw the warg hesitate as her weakened right hand struggled to hold the torch steady, making the fire dance around in front of it. Taking advantage of this the girl waved the torch towards the over large animal. He snarled in answer. Suddenly he decided that her torch was of no concern to him, and lunged forwards to attack. Serafina swung her blade down across the wargs neck, imitating a swing she had watched both Aragorn and Boromir use to behead the animals. To her intense dismay, her short sword had only partially cut into the warg's flesh, making it about a quarter of the way through. The warg's blood was everywhere, and he was not dead. The warg made for her arm but Serafina was able to dodge the attack. With great effort the thief drew her short sword back and made a stab for its heart. She missed and watched as the warg's now displaced and mutilated shoulder attempted to bear its owners weight. Thoroughly disgusted with the entire business of battle, Serafina stabbed again at its heart. Whether she hit it or not, the animal fell. Before she had time to comprehend the fact that this warg was likely dead, the thief heard her name yelled from across the fire; someone was trying to get her attention. Serafina spun to see why she was being called. As she was spinning her sword embedded itself in something hard and hairy that soon became sticky. Wide eyed, she realised that another warg had been on the attack, and had luck rolled a different number she would have been dead.

Quickly she surveyed the scene. Legolas was moving so quickly she could barely see him; he was a blur of deadly grace weaving his long knives with skill that no human could ever possess. Gimli fought with noise and visible effort – yet his method was every bit as effective as the elf's. Boromir and Gandalf were guarding the hobbits, each locked in their own battle. Aragorn was fighting two wargs at once, not once did he seem out of depth. For a split second the girl felt the same fear she had felt earlier that day. At least five of her company were deadly warriors, possibly six – who knew what the wizard was capable of. Serafina shook her head, if anything right now she should be glad for it.

Serafina dashed hastily to join the hobbit guard. Boromir, it seemed had been drawn slightly away from his post – Serafina readied herself for the next onslaught. It came quicker than she had expected. It was running towards them, the four hobbits behind her yelled and the group split. Three of the hobbits dashed towards the fire. Serafina and Frodo ran mindlessly in the other direction. The warg followed. To Frodo's credit he didn't lag, they still had some yards ahead of the warg. Serafina glanced ahead, there she saw a tree. Silently she sent up a heartfelt prayer of thanks, while she yelled to the hobbit, "The tree Frodo – the tree!"

Frodo and Serafina reached the tree together, the warg behind them had slowed to a walk, he was prowling like a cat, biding his time, enjoying the moment when fear consumes the pray. Serafina turned to ward off the warg, "In the tree Frodo!" She directed hysterically.

"I'm trying Serafina! I can't make it, I can't make it!"

"You have to!" The thief screamed back at him. She was now waving her torch spasmodically at the warg, all thoughts of prayer forgotten.

"It's too high Serafina, I can't!" Frodo's voice was becoming even more frantic.

Suddenly Serafina aimed her short sword at the warg and threw it as a spear. It struck the animal in its side and it growled ferociously, but the thief could not be distracted. Hurriedly she drew a dagger and thrust it behind her into the tree trunk, then another a little higher up, all the while waving her flaming torch menacingly at the frightening animal and shouted, "Climb!"

The moment of time she had bought herself with the spear-sword was over and the animal began to lunge. The thief swung with the torch at its face and it fell back. The scurrying of the hobbit behind her ceased and Frodo cried, "Quick, Serafina!"

But the thief had nowhere to go. She had no way out. If she turned her back to climb the warg would rip her apart and if she turned to run it would catch her. She had nothing to do but wave the torch in defiance at its face. Fervently she wished for her sword back. With one last surge of will power the girl drew another dagger; this one was even shorter than those embedded in the tree that Aragorn had dismissed earlier. It would not reach the warg unless he already had her arm in its jaws, but she felt better with it in her hand. Desperately the girl decided to go on the offensive. She swung the torch again into the wargs face, but her weakened wrist meant that the blow did it no damage. The warg lunged at her torch and in a shockingly familiar way tore it out of her hand and threw it into the air. Suddenly, before Serafina had a chance to feel the next level of panic set in, a fierce yell came from somewhere to her right. There was a flash of silver and a sickening sound and it was all over.

A mad rush of relief swept over her as she looked up. It was Aragorn, he had beheaded the beast. He was covered in blood and hair. Serafina looked down at her own body and saw the same. Suddenly she realised she could taste blood in her mouth, blood that was not hers. A flash of images came rushing back to her – hacking away at the first beast, the warm sensation of blood on her hands from the second. She looked down and saw the decapitated head of the animal that had stood here ready to eat her seconds before. Bile rose in her throat and the thief was sick where she stood.

She heard laughter coming from the direction of the fire; clearly Gimli found her illness amusing. Serafina wiped her mouth on her left sleave and straightened to look at Aragorn and attempted a shaky smile. He was most certainly not amused. He walked past her to the tree and lifted Frodo down, they exchanged some words and Frodo made his way back towards camp.

Aragorn rounded on the girl, "I told you to stay close to the fire." His voice was little more than a fierce whisper, his face twisted with emotion.

"I didn't plan to get separated!" Serafina countered defensively.

"I had no idea where you were! Frodo could have been anywhere. You have every right to endanger your own life as you see fit, but Frodo must live." Aragorn paused and looked down for a moment before continuing with his attack, "What were you thinking throwing your sword away? What would you have done if I had not been there?"

"Well, Strider, probably much the same as last time – I would have stuck my hand in its jaws so that I could reach to stab it in the heart until it died!" Serafina could not believe his hide – to fault her when nothing had gone wrong. She turned her back on him and began trying to yank her daggers out of the tree. "If I had not thrown my sword Frodo and I would most likely be dead," she paused to yank again at the first of her daggers, it held fast. "Would you have preferred that?" She asked giving up on the dagger and rounding on him.

Aragorn sighed and pulled her daggers swiftly from the tree.

"No," he answered taking another deep breath in, "No, what you did was fine."

A moment passed and suddenly he laughed, "You truly look terrible," he said between grins. Then he sniffed, "And I think you were sick all over your tunic."

He glanced back at Serafina's face and laughed outright again. The thief was appalled, but a look down confirmed his story. Her tunic was covered in hair and blood, except for where her vomit had rinsed some of it off.

"I won't live this down, will I?" she asked the ranger in a defeated voice.

"It's not likely, Serafina." He said with a wicked grin, "Come, there are carcasses to be pilled and then I believe Samwise will have made us a celebratory supper!"

The look on Serafina's face had him laughing all the way back to the fire.

A/N: Thanks for reading. I hope you are enjoying these belated new chapters. Review if you can!


	20. Chapter 20

Chapter Twenty

Serafina didn't even bother offering to help pile the carcasses. Her first point of business was changing and burning her stinking clothes, followed by the emptying of two water skins through her hair and over her face and arms – desperately trying to free herself from the stench of blood and vomit. Unfortunately, the thief was only mildly successful.

Serafina knew she didn't have much time. If the theory she had come up with was correct, she needed to know before confronting the group. Suppressing a terribly wicked grin, she sat by Frodo at the fire.

Engaging the hobbit in conversation was easy. The girl opened the conversation by discussing the night's events, and then, ever so gracefully, turned the topic towards the hobbits home. Leaving the talking to Frodo left Serafina free to observe, it also meant that she knew where Frodo's thoughts were – hopefully as far from the purpose of their quest as possible. Not long into the conversation Serafina spotted her prize – her heart and stomach flipped in unison as her mind recognised the danger, and her body welcomed the adrenalin. The thief's chance came when, due to the hobbit's excitement and proximity to the fire he decided to remove his cloak, which resulted in being quite the hassle with Serafina's offered assistance. Her hands were quick and sure and her quarry lifted over his head soundlessly with his cloak. With practiced ease, the thief stashed her prize casually in her pocket. She leisurely finished her conversation with the hobbit then excused herself to examine her find.

It wasn't long before Serafina returned to the company. The carcasses were piled away, downwind from the camp and everyone was seated around the fire discussing the imminent journey over the mountain pass.

She stopped a few metres away from the fellowship and took a deep breath; she knew this would not be a pleasant experience. Finally when the conversation reached a lull the girl took one step forward and cleared her throat. Nine heads turned towards her, waiting.

"I believe that I have made myself clear – I have no desire to travel with you, yet you will not let me go. You have no problem with exposing me to the dangers that you face, yet you don't seem to see the difference between us. The difference between the nine of you and myself is that I never volunteered for this danger. You even refuse to tell me why I am putting my life on the same cliff edge as your own. So I was left with no other choice." Serafina smiled, "I have a theory," she began.

None of them could foresee what she had to say next, so the thief took her time.

"Not all of you would know," continued the thief, "that I encountered Aragorn and the hobbits in the village of Bree. There I overheard a conversation about jewellery and invisibility. I could not make any sense of it." She paused to make sure she had all of their attention, when she was satisfied she continued, "That night, as you are aware, the Nazgul visited the village; a strange coincidence, but in my mind it was a random coincidence nonetheless."

Serafina stopped and met Boromir's gaze, she was going to enjoy this next part, "Boromir would remember, that on the night of Elrond's welcome feast, he and his kinsmen spoke openly of the Ring of Power in front of me, and a Council to be held the next morning." A smirk played on the thief's lips as Boromir's expression darkened, "I confronted Elrond about some suspicions I had concerning the One Ring, Nazgul and the hobbits' involvement – he encouraged me to dismiss my concerns, but I remember now that he never said once that my suspicions were false."

The smile on her lips faded and she regarded the faces in front of her. Not one of them moved – they could have been carved out of stone centuries ago if it wasn't for the occasion lock of hair getting caught in a passing breeze.

"I do not know what your intention is; whether you intend to hide it, or use it, or even if you are delivering it to him." Serafina reached into her pocket and pulled out a chain with a golden ring glinting in the fire light. The fellowship eyes darted between the ring and Serafina's glare, her eyes, it seemed, held a glint in them more dangerous than the seductive glow of the ring held high. "You refused to tell me important information concerning my own safety, you underestimated my ability, and you clearly have overestimated the vigilance of your ring bearer."

There, followed a pause so still that not even the night air stirred. The thief took a moment to compose herself, and then said very clearly, "I have no ambition for power, no desire to rule anything but my own thoughts and actions. I want no part in this." With a grimace Serafina threw the One Ring to Frodo. Once the ring was securely around his neck relief flooded into his face.

Boromir was the first to go on the attack. He stood and strode purposefully towards Serafina. Aragorn was quicker and positioned himself between the thief and the Gondorian. Boromir turned his attention to the ranger.

"How can you defend her?" He asked venomously.

"She has done no wrong by me," Aragorn replied quietly.

"She could have stolen the One Ring! We should have fed her to the wolves."

"She could have indeed, she obviously has the ability. But she doesn't want it. Let it go."

Boromir turned his plea towards the wizard, "Surely, Gandalf, we cannot just let this thief walk freely among us. She is dangerous and lacks even the most basic morality."

"I would say Boromir," replied Gandalf, "That Serafina has shown quite the noble and morally conscious spirit. She was concerned for her safety, rightly so at that, and sought to find the cause of her peril." He paused and fixed a measuring eye on the girl, "How she went about confirming her theory is questionable, but to give the Ring up freely and without prompting shows strength of character one might aspire to." Gandalf cast his eyes over the fellowship, "Serafina travels with us as previously agreed – to the next settlement of men. Now unless I am very much mistaken the sun will rise tomorrow and we face the perils of the misty mountains. Mine is the first watch."


	21. Chapter 21

A/N

Dear, dear loyal readers!

I am ashamed to say that it has been six years since I started this little fanfic. Oops. I apprieciate the support, the reviews and the mere fact that occasionally people still read this story! Be assured, I DO intend to finish it, but it will require much patience from my readers (believe me I want to know how it ends too!). But life calls as it so often does - assignments need to be done, work has to be performed and friends can't wait forever. I am also trying super duper hard to write my own original piece – a project that is even slower than this (if you can believe it).

Here is my latest little attempt at continuation... if my writing is not up to what it was before feel free to say so!

Disclaimer: It isn't mine. Except Serafina – she's mine.

Chapter Twenty-One

Serafina sat motionless by the fire. No one had spoken a word since Gandalf's dismissal, apart from Gimli, who – after the initial shock – had almost laughed off the display as easily as Gandalf and was currently snoring loudly by the fire. Incredibly relieved as she was (and also slightly smug) the girl could not predict how things might turn now. The look on Samwise's face was assurance enough that she was not his friend, nor would she ever be. Frodo's face was hidden. Eventually Merry and Pippin began to stir, whispering to each other, glancing at Frodo and occasionally at Serafina when they were feeling brave.

The girl's heart was unsteady. Slowing she plucked up the courage to glance in the direction of the men. Boromir was looking at her, glaringly hateful. She met his gaze with her chin in the air. Eventually the son of Gondor looked away. The ranger sat with his head in his hands. Suddenly Legolas appeared by Aragorn's side and spoke to him quietly. Serafina watched the scene, transfixed, wishing for the hearing of an elf to eavesdrop on the quiet words being spoken. Boromir shook his head in disgust and moved to prepare his bed for the night. Aragorn, however found the elf's words more to his taste and nodded his head, his expression was hidden from her gaze.

To her surprise, the elf soon stood and began walking towards her. Quickly she collected her thoughts and smoothed the emotion from her face. If she could face wargs and steal the Ring of Power all in one day, surely she could handle whatever it was this elf had to say.

Legolas sat down next to her his face betraying nothing. When he spoke, his tone was not altogether unpleasant. But the perfection in his voice made the hairs on the back of her neck stand up in annoyance.

"I am going to tend you arm tonight."

"Really?" the thief asked in mock surprise.

Legolas ignored the question, and instead set about his work on her wrist immediately. His hands were obviously as deft and skilful as Aragorn's. Certainly he lacked no sureness in his movements. Nothing broke the silence of camp, apart from the harsh snores of the dwarf. Serafina tried to glance casually in the direction that the ranger had been sitting, in case she could find a reason for the swapping of duties in his face. But Aragorn was not opposite the fire. She cast her glance around, dismissing any causal facade, curiosity overwhelming her. Eventually she found him on the edge of camp in deep discussion with the wizard, their voices too low to hear. She watched them for a moment, and realised they were clearly old friends. Aragorn. The puzzle of his name bubbled to the surface again.

The too-fair voice of her companion quietly disrupted her staring.

"You could be more subtle you know" he said with a cool smirk dancing in his eyes.

Serafina's head snapped back towards Legolas, and she regarded him closely, pulling up her guard. "I don't know what you are talking about."

"You do. And I am not going to play your game." He said as the mirth faded from his gaze. His hands never stopped working. They flew through their tasks as if he had been treating her wrist like this every day of his life, yet his touch was so light that it was difficult to tell if he was even making contact with her skin of just pretending to. The entire process struck her as extraordinarily impersonal, like a child who hates music learning to play the flute. He can learn the notes by heart as well as any musician, but his friend who loves music will play the exact same notes to a very different effect. This passed through her mind fleetingly as he continued talking, "I've seen the way you look at him. If your feelings are developing the way I think they are you would do better to distance yourself from him. Now that you are aware of the seriousness of this quest," he looked at her pointedly "you can surely see that silly desires are only futile distractions that may put us all in more danger than is necessary."

Serafina's eyes widened and she sat ramrod straight. An angry blush fled across her face, it could have been taken for sitting too close the fire, but she could not hope for Legolas to be fooled. The hide of him! With great effort she reigned in her temper so that it would not be so obvious in her voice. The last thing she wanted tonight was to make another scene. Another night with a different theme? Certainly. But this? No. Now she would have to put this subject to rest in a gentler manner than a battle of wills.

"Legolas, you are sorely mistaken," here she tried on a half smile, fighting to make it appear like a smirk. "I have no such desires or designs on any members of the fellowship. However, now that you mention it a romantic interlude would certainly break up the drudge of walk, eat, walk, and eat, clean, and finally rest. Then walk, eat, walk... Perhaps Gimli..?" a ripping snore came from the dwarf right on cue, she smiled then continued "No. Then, perhaps Boromir...?" she let her words trail off, and fixed fake merriment in her face – appearing to enjoy the joke.

"You wear a brave face, thief. But I am not fooled. It is true; you are quite pretty for a frail human girl – obviously when your eye is not the size of a fist. But you would do well to remember your place."

"I do not know what place you are referring to... would that be my ranking in terms of she dwarf beauty?"

Again Legolas ignored her goading, and spoke in a condescending manner, "I am referring to your status as a felon of Gondor, in relation to Aragorn, the heir of Isildur."

Of course. Aragorn, son of Arathorn. Isildur's heir. Heir to the throne of Gondor. Serafina's shoulders slumped. Strider. Aragorn the King of Gondor. How could she have forgotten the name? True it had been years since she had heard it, and had never much like royals, or any form of authority, but Aragorn! His name was the beacon of hope for all Gondorians. She closed her eyes, Legolas momentarily forgotten, until his voice yet again broke her reverie.

"You did not know?" he asked flatly.

Serafina looked at him squarely and set her jaw, "I remember now; the stories as a child of the return of the King to Gondor. But yes, I had forgotten the significance of his name."

"You would do well to remember it this time." He said as he released her wrist and began replacing the balms and herbs into their pouches. Then he continued, "On his shoulders rests the hope of man. It is not even certain if any of us will survive this quest. Arwen, has left these shores for those very reasons." He paused, "You do know who Arwen is?" Serafina nodded, and listened as the elf continued. "They were lovers before you were alive, and she has now left him for the Grey Havens so that he may concentrate on the tasks at hand, there is, and will be little left for her here. Do not let their sacrifice come to nothing."

He bade her a solemn goodnight and moved to the other side to the fire. Serafina breathed in deeply, and began making her bed where she sat. She tried to look at this discovery in a positive light, but the sense of victory she normally felt in gaining information evaded her. She considered Aragorn's destiny, it explained much of his character; the way rooms felt smaller with him in them, the way he held himself, the way he lead and yet despised leading. Serafina remembered him in the royal robes that night in Rivendell, and then her mind drifted to Arwen. She had not known she had left him. She could not help feeling angry with the beautiful Elvin princess for leaving Aragorn alone with immeasurable tasks to complete.

As she began to drift off to sleep her mind wandered back to the beginning of her conversation with Legolas. Suddenly she was awake again; heat flushed once more to her cheeks in embarrassment and anger. How dare he presume to perceive her desires! She let her anger surge and became angrier that this elf's words were keeping her from sleep. After a time, Serafina listened as footsteps made their way through the camp. Aragorn's soft voice sounding indistinctly from across the fire, and was answered clearly by Legolas.

"Yes, slowly. I believe fighting the wargs tonight didn't help the healing process much."

Aragorn's low chuckle sounded in reply followed by some more low words.

Legolas laughed in reply, Serafina clenched her jaw in anger at the sound. Then clearly he answered him again, "No, quiet actually. Perhaps the warg's got to her. But I confess – it is a task I happily leave to your capable hands."

Serafina stopped listening. Legolas was clearly talking loudly enough for her to overhear, it was as if he was telling her that Aragorn knew nothing of their conversation. She soothed herself with this information and attempted sleep again by reassuring herself that she had no idea where Legolas got those notions from. She, certainly, had not thought about the ranger in such a way.


	22. Chapter 22

A/N

Thanks to everyone who reads this double thanks to those who review! Please review! It's a great help and morale booster!

Enjoy this chapter. I found it rather fun to write.

Disclaimer: I own Serafina, and less importantly I own Garth, and the horse from chapters four and five... the rest belongs to JRR Tolkien.

Chapter Twenty-two

Serafina was even more excluded from the party since her display after the warg attack, though she expected little else. She tried to occupy her mind with daydreams of the simpler life that she'd sought when she left Bree, but the looming mountain prevented her fantasies progressing very far.

The elf, Serafina avoided at all costs. However, to her relief, Legolas seemed to pay her less attention than he had before. To be sure of their paths crossing as infrequently as possible Serafina decided to walk at the back of the company, to her utmost dismay the thief soon found that this was the ranger's usual post and soon picked up her pace to put her in the middle of the spread out line of travellers.

The next couple of days past in this way almost without incident. Daytime passed in semi-solitude and evenings in uncomfortable companionship with the company. She had not yet mentioned to Aragorn her discovery of his identity, she suspected this had something to do with Legolas' accusation, but the thief tried not to dwell on the matter. Serafina had even prayed a few prayers of thanks as Aragorn tended her wrist. He was busy discussing plans with Gandalf and Serafina was not required to make conversation. Occasionally Aragorn would turn to her intently and press her wrist in different places, asking if it hurt. Her answer was always no. After handing her back her arm he would produce the cooling balm he had rubbed around her swollen eye. She would watch in silence as his expression darkened on application of the balm. The girl tried desperately to keep her eyes open and downcast, but she found this impossible. The look on his face haunted her mind. She would eventually close her eyes in an attempt to block out the confusing man before her.

Soon their path towards the mountain began to steepen. The thief fell frequently into step with the dwarf. Conversing with Gimli was an easy thing, he expected nothing of Serafina but a partner in conversation, something he found her quite fit to be. Three days after the warg attack she found herself in a dialogue with the dwarf.

"So lass, what do you say to our decision to go up the mountain?" He grumbled beside her.

Serafina could not have hoped for an easier topic to talk with the dwarf on, she paused as if considering her answer, knowing the whole time what she would say. After due reflection she replied; "I believe I would have preferred your mines. I don't dislike heights but the mines seem a much more direct route to me."

"Indeed they would be lassie! And not to mention more hospitable, the weather is all sunshine now, but up on the mountain things can turn quickly."

Serafina merely nodded in reply and this was all the encouragement the dwarf needed. He began talking in depth of the roaring fires and pleasant times spent within the underground city, and then he started on the jewels. Naturally Serafina's interest picked up at this point; at first she let no outward sign show her heightened attention. After a significant amount of time was spent on detailing the finery and the wealth of the mines the thief decided to make the conversation slightly more interesting. In truth she didn't have too much of a desire for jewels and finery, she was not insensible to their worth, but such pieces she'd found difficult to resell for what their actual worth, and were therefore generally not worth the effort. Regardless, Serafina began to probe.

Slowly she started asking more questions about some of the more exquisite items Gimli mentioned, noting their stones, their metal, and their assured fineness. Then she allowed her step to appear lighter, she let a mischievous glint come into her eyes and pushed curiosity into her tone. Gimli was so enthralled in his own recollections that he caught on slowly. But surely his tone became suspicious, his eyes shifty and his pace began to lag as he evaluated the girls interest.

Aragorn watched as the dwarf and thief slowed their pace, he had caught waves of their conversation on the wind. Slowly he came level with the pair as they walked enthralled in their own conversation.

"I am sorry; I did not catch the metal of that amulet." said Serafina. Aragorn glanced into the girls face, he was not sure but he could have sworn he saw something very different from greed in her eyes.

Gimli's response was forced; he evidently was fighting an internal battle between boasting about his kinsman's wealth and craft, and hiding such information from a capable thief, "Mithril", he murmured. "I said it was in Mithril."

The dwarf did not look at the girl as he said this and Aragorn caught her unguarded expression. Mirth. Her eyes were lighted with delight and cheek. A pert smile played across her face before a mask of fake curiosity replaced it.

"I have heard of Mithril but I have never seen it. It is supposed to be worth much more than the finest silver or gold, is it not?" the desire in her voice was unmistakable, for a moment Aragorn questioned her intentions until he briefly caught her eye over the dwarfs head. She smiled at him, her face alive with amusement. Fleetingly he saw that grin, the same grin she had thrown him before she went out, through the window of the room in The Prancing Pony. It was carefree and unchecked. The girl across from him now was a far cry from the girl who had sat almost silent with him the night before, denying pain and refusing to meet his gaze.

Gimli did not answer her this time, instead his pace quickened. Serafina easily matched his stride. Aragorn looked on thoroughly amused as she almost skipped next to him. He allowed them to walk ahead, but kept in hearing range. Part of him wondered if he should bring the dwarf to his senses, but he thought it perhaps too cruel to stamp on the only smile he had seen in three days.

Serafina's voice floated back to him clearly on the cold wind, "I wonder Gimli; do you think we have not gone too far to turn around? Surely Gandalf must agree – there can be no excuse for missing such treasures as the mines of Moria hold?"

This was clearly too much for Gimli, he broke his silence, at first only producing unintelligible splutters of rage, which drew the attention of the entire company. He found his words quickly, and yelled in a fighting temper; "We will do no such thing, thief! I am glad now to be on this mountain. I would not trust you one foot into my cousin's mines. I see through you and your-"

But Gimli never got a chance to finish; the ranger had lost his self control and began to laugh. Gimli turned on the spot to fix his furious gaze on the man but as he did Serafina threw her head back and laughed. The dwarf spun back around and looked up at the girl.

Then realisation dawned.

"Hrmph" he grumbled, but not without amusement "Yes, very funny Serafina. Laugh at the dwarf's expense."

This sent the thief into another unbridled fit of laughter. Aragorn watched on smiling as the dwarf fought his own smile and Serafina laughed in the sunlight. Gimli turned to him and said under his breath, "You could have told me."

The ranger only chuckled in response and Gimli turned back around to make his way towards the onlooking fellowship. Serafina lingered and her eyes rested on Aragorn. He met her gaze in silence and he watched her expression change as a blush crept up her neck. He watched her visibly grow more guarded in a matter of moments. Then the sound of footsteps tore their eyes apart.

Aragorn looked up to see Boromir walking back down the slope towards them. Aragorn fought to bring the light-heartedness he felt a moment ago back to his mind.

"You are holding us up, thief." Boromir all but spat in Serafina's direction, "Pray, tell us what is so amusing as to slow down our quest."

To Serafina's credit, Aragorn watched as her back straightened, her head held high, with a smile firmly fixed on her lips, "I was just discussing the wealth of the mines of Moria with Gimli. He came to the conclusion that it is probably best for his cousin that we did indeed decide on the mountain pass. Maybe you would be in agreement?" Her lively words had their desired effect. Boromir angered almost instantly. Aragorn sighed silently and intervened.

"Boromir, calm yourself. It was simply a joke to pass the hours more pleasantly."

"Forgive me, ranger, if I cannot take her presence with us as lightly as you do. But I find nothing amusing in her manner." replied Boromir.

Aragorn cringed as Serafina opened her mouth to speak. "I could forgive you for not finding my jokes funny, Boromir. But unfortunately, in you, I believe it is more a case of an entire lack of humour that plagues you." She paused slightly for effect, and said with mock condescension, "That, I cannot forgive."

Boromir raised his arm to strike, but Aragorn moved quickly. Serafina though, it appeared, was waiting for it and had moved well out of harm's way before the blow would have struck her. Aragorn wrestled Boromir's arm back to his side. "Leave it!" he said, "leave it." Boromir struggled back but lost, and ended up at Aragorn's feet.

"You would defend her – a thief, with no morals and nothing better to do than goad her companions?" Boromir picked himself up off the ground and stood slowly, "She's not worth the effort."

Serafina watched as Boromir walked away. She lowered her face and began to follow him up the slope as the rest of the fellowship turned as well to continue on, now that the scene was over. She kept her head down as she past Aragorn, but he grabbed her upper left arm and spun her to face him.

"You should have left that to me." His voice was little more than a whisper but with all the intensity of a roar.

Serafina raised her eyes to his, she felt that same heat creeping up her ears but she fought it down, she was too angry to blush. "I can fight my own battles. I am no damsel in need of your assistance."

"And what of this?" he asked gesturing to her slowly healing eye. "Would you prefer me to let him give you another?"

"I was ready for him this time; he would not have hit me." She adamantly spat back.

"Perhaps not the first time." He answered, "Do you think he would give up after one attempt?"

Serafina did not answer; she turned her eyes over his shoulder, looking past him. She felt him shake her to get her attention.

"There are some battles that do not need to be fought, Serafina."

"I am not going to lie down and let him lord over me."

"And I am not asking you to."

"Well what are you asking then?"

Aragorn answered with that same intensity in his low voice, "This is a dangerous place to be tempting fate, and you may need Boromir's allegiance before the end of this. I am asking you to think about your decisions before you make them. You cannot simply do what you please because it feels good at the time."

Serafina looked him straight in the eyes, "Is that what you said to Arwen? Is that the reason she left you?"

The moment the words had left her lips she regretted them, but the effect was instant. Aragorn's hand dropped immediately from her arm. Serafina saw pain etched into every weather creased line on his face before his expression became stony and impassive.

"We are falling behind" he said flatly, before brushing passed her and making his way up the gradual slope into the increasingly cold wind.


	23. Chapter 23

A/N

Thank you to my wonderful reviewers! The feedback you're giving me is wonderful, it reassures me that what happens in my head is actually being conveyed through my writing so please keep reviewing, or start if you haven't yet... ;) ! I've been wondering though if any of my old readers are still around, like from 6 years ago...? I hope so!

Enjoy!

Disclaimer: I don't own anything that has appeared in any of the novels by JRR Tolkien or the movies directed by Mr P. Jackson.

Chapter Twenty-three

That night Serafina sat close by Gimli, in an attempt at taking her mind off how horrible she felt. She was even mildly successful; the dwarf thought her charade earlier quite the joke and they conversed with ease. Legolas sat with Boromir, Sam, Frodo and Gandalf, the five of them spoke sparingly, and with little hilarity. Merry and Pippin, however were seated either side of Aragorn, the three of them engrossed in their discussion. Part of her wondered at the topic of their conversation, until another part of her told her to keep her nose out of other people's business. For once she listened to her own advice, and returned her attention to the dwarf.

Nonetheless it was what followed dinner that had the thief's nerves on edge. The food was packed away, the meagre fire fuelled and eventually the ranger made his way to where Serafina sat. To her dismay as Aragorn sat down, Gimli rose, spoke a few words to the ranger, bid Serafina a good night and prepared himself for the first watch.

The whole process of undressing, cleaning, and redressing her mangled wrist passed as quickly as she could have hoped. The only words he spoke were the usual enquiries regarding pain. Serafina was still too ashamed of herself to talk, and shook her head without meeting his eyes. She had been expecting perhaps a repeat of his reprimand from earlier that day, but nothing came. His hands, which Serafina thought must give some evidence of their conversation, were steady, sure and gentle, furthermore they worked neither quicker nor slower than any other evening. The only clue that something had changed between them was the complete lack of expression on his face. He was grim and as blank as stone.

As he rubbed the ointment onto her face, Serafina risked a glance into his eyes. She was desperate to see if even the curious dark expression he wore when treating her eye was wiped from his face. Her stomach did a sick sort of tumble when their eyes met. His were indeed darkened by that same emotion, but he broke the connection between them as soon as it was made. She closed her eyes and waited. Soon he was replacing the balm with the rest of his supplies and then he rose, without speaking and left her seated alone.

Serafina breathed a deep, sad, breath. At least that was over for one day.

...

With the morning, came the snow. Serafina's heart sank a little as she realise how much more uncomfortable her day was about to get. The sun was bright behind the clouds and it bounced back at them off the pristine white layer on the ground.

She resumed her position in the middle of the company. To her relief, Gimli had decided to walk with Aragorn, and she was left to herself. She tried to keep her thoughts blank, and focus purely on putting one sodden, cold foot in front of the other but her mind would not be still. In her head she found the conversation between Aragorn and herself replayed repeatedly. Desperately the thief tried to find a way to justify her words, but there was no justification to be made. The ranger had shown her kindness after kindness, no matter her opinion of him, he had been nice. Frowning, she tried to take the conversation out of context, out of this dangerous place with these unknown people.

Serafina thought about Bree and the other thieves, and some of the poor street urchins. She tried to think how she would feel had a conversation with one of them ended in a similar way. Nothing came to her. No feelings of remorse, none of shame or regret, nothing that resembled her current mind state.

She tried a different scenario; if she had said something equally offensive to Gimli or perhaps one of the Hobbits? She painted the same look of anguish that she had seen on Aragorn's face onto Pippin's. A fresh wave of feeling assaulted her; she felt shame, regret, and guilt.

For some reason, this eased her conscience slightly. And Serafina picked up her pace and held her head a little higher; brooding was not something she enjoyed.

Unexpectedly she felt a little hand tugging on her breeches. Serafina looked down to see Pippin's small face looking up at her. Surprised, but curious, she bid the little Hobbit hello.

"Serafina," he began, "Merry and I have got somethin' we want to say to you."

Serafina laughed, "Well please say it," she said pleasantly, "but what about Merry?"

Pippin shook his head seriously, then smiled guiltily as he said, "Merry is distractin' Frodo and Sam."

"Oh?"

"Well you see Serafina, Merry and I always liked you. We liked you from The Prancin' Pony, when you were all bleedin' in the corner..." he trailed off, waiting for some form of conformation. Serafina obliged,

"Yes, I remember. Go on."

"And then at Rivendell, we didn't see a lot of you. But when you started travellin' with us again, we decided that we still liked you, even though everyone else didn't. Especially with all that about Boromir and that friend of yours..."

"Yes, Pippin..." Serafina prompted, careful to keep her voice agreeable. She did not want any form of accidental repeat of the display with the Ranger yesterday. But she could not help herself from saying, "I'm not sure if I know what this is about."

"Well," he began with a painfully confused look on his face. "When you first started travelling' with us, Merry and I, we talk to each other about you and we thought that you were alright and we wanted to be your friend, despite Boromir. So we spoke to Strider about it –"

"Strider?" Interrupted Serafina, "What did you talk to him about?"

"Well about you of course!" he said as if it was obvious. A look from Serafina expressed to him that she needed further clarification to fully understand. He obliged gallantly. "We wanted to talk to Strider about whether or not Merry and I should still want to be friends with you, seein' as you, well you know, all that with Boromir and everythin'."

Serafina could not keep the curiosity out of her voice as she asked, "What did he say?"

"Oh!" he answered, as if this were unimportant, "He said that a person could only judge another person by their actions to him, or somethin'. The point of it was though, that you were always nice and friendly to us, and so we ought to treat you the same."

"That sounds like a wise thing to say." She said, trying to hide her smile.

"Well, that's what we thought. So we wanted to stay being your friend, but it's a little bit hard with so much going on to always get to talk to you without Boromir getting angry... but then..." his voice trailed off again.

"Then what, Pippin?"

"Well, then you stole the ring from Frodo."

"Ah, yes I see. I did, didn't I?" Serafina paused and thought she would help him out here, "So you want to know if you should still be my friend after I stole the Ring of Power from your friend..."

"Well, no."

"No?"

"Well, yes we did, but not anymore."

"Well what happened?"

"We spoke to Strider last night." Pippin said happily, as if that was the perfect answer to her question. Serafina's heart sank; here she'd lost three friends in two days.

"And what did Strider say?" she asked gently.

"At first, he didn't say much, you know what he's like. He doesn't really say much." Serafina stifled a laugh in agreement. "So we, Merry and I, told him about how we liked you, and wanted to be your friends. Especially because you don't really have many –"

"Pippin!" came a voice from Serafina's other side.

"Merry, what?"

"Well you can't just say things like that."

"But it's true."

"It's also rude."

"Oh, sorry Serafina." The thief grinned down at him in reply, and Pippin continued talking, "Merry why aren't you with Frodo and Sam?"

"They were sidetracked enough with Gandalf's ramblings about somethin' borin', and so I'd thought I'd come here and seize the moment."

Serafina could only smile, as she watched Merry puff up his chest as he squinted up to her in the glare.

"So, where were you up to Pip?" Merry asked quietly.

"Oh, talkin' to Strider. Yes well we were sayin' how 'cause you stole the ring and all and we weren't sure what we should do."

"Yeah, and then we said that maybe because you didn't actually steal it, 'cause you gave it back, maybe that was different." Interjected Merry.

"And what did Strider say?" asked Serafina.

"Well, not really much at this point. Because then we started talkin' about how we didn't want to offend Frodo and Sam by being friends with you." said Merry.

"You know, because they don't really like you –"

"Pippin!"

"Well, maybe it's just that they don't trust you."

"Anyway!" said Merry exasperatedly, "The point is that Strider said, we have a right to be friends with whoever we want, regardless of Frodo and Sam or Boromir, which is what we thought in the first place. Then he said that in his opinion, you stealin' the ring was a small matter, given that you gave it back and that you weren't really after it in the first place."

"Which is what we thought too," said Pippin, "so really, he reassured us that nothin' had changed."

Serafina looked down at the two Hobbits on either side of her and smiled, then said with as much true sincerity as she could muster, "I am honoured to have friends such as you two."

Pippin smiled up at her momentarily before turning to Merry and saying, "What about the other thing?"

"What other thing Pip?" Merry asked slightly annoyed.

"You know the Boromir thing..."

"Pip-" Began Merry, but Serafina was faster.

"What Boromir thing?" she asked Pippin.

"Well," began Pippin hesitatingly, "We didn't know who to talk to about this..."

"We may as well say it now." Continued Merry, "Ever since the other night when you held up the ring in front of everyone before you threw it back to Frodo, Boromir has been actin' odd."

Serafina frowned, and wondered what to make of such little information. Perhaps one of them read it in her face, so Pippin continued.

"It's not really odd, it's just that he's always lookin' at Frodo-"

"The way he's always lookin' at Frodo's neck, more like it" corrected Merry darkly. "He's been talking less and well, we think maybe the ring is starting to get to him."

Here came the first lull in the conversation, which allowed Serafina to think. Eventually she said, "Why come to me with this information? You know my history with him."

It was Merry who answered, "We would have gone to Aragorn, but he and Boromir are well..." he paused and put on a deep voice, "Men of Gondor".

Serafina couldn't help but laugh; it was true of Aragorn and Boromir, for all their occasional disagreements, had a special friendship; a bond like brothers.

Pippin continued, "and then we thought, Gandalf, or Legolas or Gimli, but sometimes..."

"Sometimes what?" prompted the thief gently.

"Sometimes they don't take us very seriously" finished Merry with a sour look on his face.

Serafina considered this information. She had never been in a situation like this before. Here she had two people that she cared for giving her information in search of advice and help. With this realisation, an unfamiliar weight pressed onto her chest and shoulders. She looked down at them solemnly and asked;

"What would you like me to do?"

...


	24. Chapter 24

A/N

Well I have been doing a LOT of brainstorming (daydreaming) and I now not only understand where I am taking this story but also how it will get there... a good place to be;)

I plan to revise previous chapters and edit them properly, something WELL overdue. I _may_ also flesh them out a little... but more on that when I get around to it. Uni is back, so procrastination in the form of writing and editing will most probably ensue.

My understanding from reviewers is that you love Serafina even though you want to hate her. Which I love! Yes the romance is slow in coming... but hopefully the more real for it.

Please read and **review**! (Thanks to those who do – you make my days happy)

Enjoy!

Disclaimer: LOTR isn't mine.

...

Chapter Twenty-four

Serafina sat down, less than an arm span between herself and Boromir, directly blocking his line of sight to Frodo. She suppressed a wicked grin as he turned away with a scowl and engaged Aragorn in conversation. She knew she was enjoying this too much for the serious task that it was, but the thief didn't care. She had to hand it to Merry and Pippin, it was an ingenious idea, and it appeared to be working. Boromir had barely had a chance to catch a glimpse of the Ring in a day and a half, Serafina had seen to that. 'Distract him' they'd said, 'he won't be able to think about the Ring if you're around him... he'll be too busy blamin' you for breathin' or somethin''. Serafina smiled at the memory. She had been careful so far; she had not pushed his restraint. The thief found merely walking in his line of sight, or sitting too close to him at meals sufficed. A couple of times she'd ventured into his conversations with others, a word here or there would silence him for a whole minute and allow his focus on the ring to melt away like a snowflake in sunshine.

She was half listening to Aragorn's conversation with Boromir, it didn't interest her but she found her attention drawn by the two men. Eventually it came to a natural close, and Aragorn walked away. The increasingly familiar feelings of guilt and remorse assailed her when the Ranger crossed her mind. Serafina almost rejoiced when Frodo walked in the same direction as Aragorn – Boromir's attention was captivated by the Hobbit. She found herself delighting in being able to push aside such unpleasant feelings by attending to her duty. Boromir was almost at the point of standing up to follow Frodo. Serafina nearly grinned – it was time to distract Boromir more assertively.

"Boromir," she paused as he spun around directly, a part of her thought that might be enough. Serafina continued regardless with mischief in her eyes, "Tell me, when we make it to Gondor, what will you do with me?"

Boromir stared, as did all those in earshot. She felt misgivings rising in a flush up her neck, her pride, however, would not back down. She threw on a haughty smile to throw off her doubts.

"Will you shackle me in irons as soon as we enter the realm? Or do you think-" Serafina broke off. Aragorn had come back into earshot, and her mouth refused to continue the spiteful words directed at Boromir.

"Or do I think what, Thief?" Boromir asked with amusement in his voice. He was smiling, evidently delighted at her lack of follow through. Serafina gritted her teeth, she had never been tongue tied. Stubbornly she fought the embarrassment with anger and opened her mouth to speak. Before any words had left her, Gandalf's voice came drifting across to her with no hint of frustration, totally unconcerned with the situation.

"_I_ think, Serafina, that I would enjoy walking with you for the next part of our journey. As an old man, I believe the arm of a young lady might be just the thing I need." The wizard turned away and began ascending the ever increasing slope. Serafina had long since abandoned looking back down the mountain, not being afraid of heights was one thing. Mountains were different. She glanced at Boromir, who was actually smiling. Evidently he though the wizard had summoned her to convey displeasure in her conduct. Serafina automatically wiped the scowl off her face and smiled sweetly at him. It was Boromir's turn to scowl.

The rest of the party was hurrying to pack away the remains of lunch, chattering quietly among one another, Serafina ignored them as she began after Gandalf.

Aragorn caught up with her quickly, his voice, when he spoke was as low and fierce as ever, "What are you up to, Serafina?"

"I am trying to catch up to the old man."

"Do not play games with me. Why do you pester him so?"

Serafina hated herself as she forced an innocent smile, "Who?"

Angrily, Aragorn grabbed her shoulder, his enraged whisper audible even above the wind, "Boromir is a respected Man of Gondor. Now while I may not condone his treatment of you, I will not sit by and watch you deliberately provoke him!"

Serafina spun to face him and opened her mouth wide to being defending her actions. Before the words came out of her mouth though, she reminded herself why she had not come to Aragorn with the Merry and Pippin's concerns in the first place. How could she defend her actions to the man in front of her after insulting him so abominably less than a day ago? How could she expect him to believe her plight to distract Boromir, when her merely suspecting him of a desire for the Ring would seem so biased, so fabricated. Aragorn was right, Boromir was a respected man, first son to the Steward of Gondor, and she would accuse him of coveting the One Ring when her own personal vendetta against the man was common knowledge? No, she could not defend herself. Not now, and not to him. Aragorn could think what he wanted, since when had the opinions of others mattered to the Thief?

Serafina closed her mouth, and looked away. Unable to meet his eye she forced the words out of her mouth, "If you do not like it, then do not watch. The wizard is waiting for me." Without looking back at him she set off at a quicker pace towards the wizard, leaving hasty imprints in the fresh snow.

Even though ever step brought her further up the mountain, with each step she felt her stomach sink closer to her knees as she realised that something was changing. She had never minded what people thought of her. Why did it matter what a Ranger thought? Desperately she tried to pin point a moment in time when things had changed, if she could figure out the cause, then maybe she could reverse it. Slowly she gained on Gandalf, but he didn't turn and at first he didn't talk. The thief fell easily into step with him, lost in her mind. She could feel the gaze of the rest of the company on her back.

Suddenly she was pulled out of herself by the sound of the wizards voice.

"Do not be so sullen, Serafina" he said gently.

She didn't answer and he continued after a moment.

"I think the question is not what Boromir will do with you, but rather, what you choose to do with yourself."

"I don't know what you're talking about" she answered mechanically.

"Actually I believe you do, it is more a matter of the fact that you are sulking and would rather dwell in self pity that engage in conversation" snapped the wizard sharply.

For the first time Serafina lifted her eyes to regard her walking companion. There was no anger in his face; he looked straight ahead, where he was walking. After a moment he turned his head and smiled at the girl, she offered one of her own in return.

"Good!" he said comically. "Now then, what will you do with yourself?"

"I don't know. Much the same as always, I am itching to be free from this..." she gestured around.

"The Mountain?"

"No not the Mountain, but yes that too. I want to be of this quest. I don't want to depend on you or, or Aragorn or any of the others. I want a reasonably sized town, where I can get what I need."

"Freedom is a many layered concept. But that is what you will do with yourself?" asked Gandalf sceptically, "continue thieving? Serafina that is not much to look forward to."

"Perhaps not to you" she answered stiffly.

"I rather think not to anyone, especially not to you."

"And what, then, do you expect me to do? I play with the hand I have been dealt."

Gandalf looked at her with a sharp, measuring eye and asked, "What if you were given a new set of cards?"

"You speak in riddles, old man" she said with finality. Fortunately he seemed to take the hint and let the subject pass. They walked in silence together for a time, both evidently wrapped in their own thoughts. Serafina was again contemplating her misfortune. She was happily reconciled with the idea that she was being indirectly punished for the choices she'd made in her life, what she could not come to terms with was the distinct lack of choice in her current circumstance. There was no escape. The time she'd spent with the company already felt like months of disagreeable journeying, and on top of that she could feel these people impressing themself on her character. She had always been very careful in the past to limit her interactions with others, and now all choice had been taken from her.

"What do you know of you parents?" asked the wizard presently. Serafina pulled herself out of her wonderings and engaged once more in his trivial conversation.

"I never knew them" was all the answer she gave.

"You never knew them? You do not consider yourself an orphan then?" he asked probingly. Serafina looked up at him suspiciously.

"Do you know something I do not?" she challenged. She'd watched him over the past week, he had been the least surprised to find her travelling with them and was completely non-pulsed by her presence. She glared up at him to underline the challenge in her words but the effect was slightly damaged as she squinted in the brightness of reflected sunshine on snow.

"There are many things I know, Serafina, long life and excellent memory have seen to the assurance of that fact. However, on the subject of your parents you may believe me as ignorant as yourself – obviously depending on the extent of your own knowledge on the matter".

She smirked at his response but her suspicions were allayed. Her own knowledge, of course was minimal and the subject so unimportant that she decided to indulge the wizard. Gandalf saw her smile and continued.

"You had a parental figure though, did you not?" he asked kindly.

Her smirk grew – Garth, a father figure? The irony struck her deeply. "Of sorts..." she conceded vaguely.

"And how did you come into his care?"

"His care?" Serafina repeated with amusement, and then answered the wizard, "I only asked him once. According to Garth I was abandoned in the river Anduin and he found me in the bulrushes less than a league down river from Minas Tirith," Serafina said matter-of-factly, then added with a sneer "but it was not a topic we discussed often." She looked up at the wizard again to see his reaction but before any response had formed on his face his attention was caught by something behind them. He had stopped, his body stiff. Suddenly he spun around with the agility of a much younger man. Serafina too, turned to survey the scene below them. The company were all facing the one member. Boromir stood looking at the snow, captivated. Serafina looked to the rest of the Fellowship to try to discern what was going on, but her eyes could not distinguish expressions on faces at such a distance.

Boromir was bent down. When he straightened something glinted from his hands. In one moment her worst suspicions were confirmed. She rounded on Gandalf, "Will you do nothing?" she asked, her voice thick with a mix of alarm and accusation. Gandalf did not take his eyes off the scene below him but when he answered it was with collected casualness.

"What would you suggest? Here we stand too far away from him for you to imply your... unique strategy."

Serafina was momentarily dumbstruck; did the wizard know what she had suspected him of? And if he had, why had he not spoken to her of it? Before she could pose any of her questions though Gandalf spoke again, "You are not nearly so difficult to decipher as you would like to think. Aha!" he said with a smile, "it is returned to Frodo – very little harm done".

She glanced back quickly towards the scene below. Boromir was indeed walking again. She cast her eye over the others; the only two that had not resumed the journey were Frodo and Aragorn. The hobbit seemed to be adjusting something around his neck. She saw the Ranger remove his hand from his hip. With a jolt she realised that his hand had been on the hilt of his sword. A sombre mood fell over her as she too turned to continue up the mountain. Abruptly the wind picked up, it seemed the weather too was against them. Despite her shock at the scene and her general deep dislike of him she felt a sudden pang of gratefulness to Boromir for suggesting they each carry some firewood, it appeared they would need it. She brought her cloak further about her with a shiver and she wished herself far away from the quest.

...

Serafina could not imagine worse weather. There was nothing to see, nothing but snow and the back of a figure in front of her, she could not tell who it was. The coldness was numbing, an hour ago she had been wet through and deeply miserable, now Serafina felt nothing but the stinging numbness as it crept though her body. Trust alone told her that she still had feet attached to her legs; she had no sensation below her mid-calf and no visibility to tell either way. Her gloved hands were thrust into her armpits to try to preserve some body heat but the attempt felt futile.

Half an hour ago Aragorn had given up his cloak to warm her, her feeble protest had never made it past her chattering teeth, but she thought she'd seen understanding in his eyes. He was behind her, she knew, carrying Frodo and Sam. She assumed Boromir carried Merry and Pippin, but the dark smudge in front of her could have been anyone of the fellowship. Concern flitted through her mind for the Halflings, but it left her mind as quickly as it had entered, as if the storm was blowing her thoughts away as soon as they came to her.

It wasn't long before she began to stumble. She thought, though, that she had done well to stay upright as long as she had with frozen feet. After a particularly bad collision with the cliff face on her left she heard a different kind of noise to the screaming of the wind. A moment later she placed the sound – a voice was yelling. She heard her name, a moment later she heard the names of the hobbits, another voice answered, and then another. Serafina wanted to scream at them to slow down and repeat themselves but the words never became more than an abstract wish in her mind. Something nudged her back, for a moment she though the storm had solidified and was pushing her deeper into itself. But sense came to her, in a moment of relief, and she recognized the touch of another person, urging her forward. Desperately she tried to concentrate on the process of walking. It was beginning to seem deeply complicated. Suddenly they had stopped again. Men were yelling and the storm was still screaming. She wanted to join in but her body could not obey. Then, all at once, there was a muffling crash. Silence fell heavily onto her, heavy, cold and black. Serafina welcomed it. Reality faded.

...

Aragorn fought his way to the surface, lungs stinging for air. He surfaced quickly and cast his gaze around. Around him hands and heads were emerging through the suffocating white blanket. He forced his way through to help pull the hobbits out of the snow and back into the storm. Gimli had already taken up the argument for turning back with Gandalf again, his gruff voice fighting the roaring wind. Legolas was once again on top of the snow, scouting around for safe passage. Boromir was watching the elf with envy as he pulled Pippin to the surface.

Suddenly Aragorn's eyes widened.

"Serafina!" he shouted. She had not surfaced. There was no more movement in the snow to suggest something struggling to break out from underneath, no hand grasping for help. He cast his eyes about in the storm – she could have been anywhere under the vast amount of snow, "Legolas! Boromir! Help!" he called. Frantically the three of them began digging.

"Where was she?" asked Legolas as he dug randomly in the compacted snow.

"Between Aragorn and I," answered Boromir, shovelling snow from where he had been buried back towards where Aragorn had surfaced.

Aragorn gritted his teeth then said in frustration, "She could barely walk when we started again. She could not have been far ahead of me..." how could he have been as careless as to not know where she had been? Angrily he moved great chunks of snow aside as he canvassed the area between himself, Boromir and the mountain side.

"Here!" he yelled. His hands had struck something softer than snow, "Help me get her out." It was her cheek he had struck; it was a ghastly grey colour. With little effort they pulled her free and laid her on top of the snow. Aragorn despaired at the sight of her face, completely devoid of colour. Quickly he checked for signs of life. He took a steadying breath when he felt her own soft breathing, but her weak pulse rattled his composure.

"Legolas, quickly, pick up some snow and rub her hands, Gimli –" he said as he saw the dwarf wading over, "take one too. Be gentle, make sure you use snow, or she may never feel them again." With steely resolve Aragorn looked at Serafina and ignored the fears settling on him. He knelt next to her head, "Serafina," he called to her, he was so close he to her that he could feel her shallow breath touching his face. He called her name again and began slapping her face gently, trying to make her wake up.

"Boromir! Her feet!" he instructed. He could hear the man ripping off her boot over the wind, then the crunching of snow as he too attempted to save her extremities from frost-bite. Aragorn kept trying desperately to wake her up – the ministrations of the elf, man and dwarf would be useless if she never regained consciousness. A hand thrust the flask of Miruvor into his own, he took it hastily and tried forcing it into her mouth but it dribbled uselessly down her cheeks. He was losing her, he knew it. With more urgency he slapped her cheeks again with more force. Nothing. "Serafina!" he was yelling into her ears now, but for all the reaction from her he may have said nothing. A familiar feeling began racing through his veins; panic had set in. He needed to take a breath to calm himself but there was no time.

Unexpectedly, a feeble hope came to him, flickering, like a star fighting the dawn. "Boromir!" he cried standing up, "Come!"

The man left Serafina's feet, the elf moved quickly to replace him, handing the girl's other hand to Gimli. Aragorn grabbed the front of Boromir's shirt and shouted at him urgently, "You've known her the longest. Do you anything more about her? Anything. Something she might respond to?"

Boromir shook his head; he took his eyes off the Ranger and looked at the girl. Aragorn saw something change in his eyes. It was hesitation. His temper flared, "Boromir – now!" he cried into his face, shaking him with all his strength, "Or she dies..."

Boromir's eyes snapped away from Serafina and he looked squarely at Aragorn. "Yes," he said, his voice unsteady, "yes, try 'Fia'."

Aragorn dropped his arms and confirmed, "Fia?"

"Yes, it's what Olin, the boy, called her – her nickname as a child" but Aragorn was already on his knees whispering in her ears. His face twisted itself into a knot of anguish when she still didn't respond. "Fia!" he cried again as he slapped her face, "Fia!" His heart slowly began to sink. She would not wake. Eyes closed, he bowed his head over her with his hands cradling her face.

A short flurry of movement echoed through his hands. He knew though, that this was just from the ministrations of the elf and dwarf. He despaired at their vain attempt to save her hands and feet. He thought that he should tell them to stop. Again the movement occurred. Steadying himself, he opened his eyes to call the elf and dwarf off – hope was lost. Two bright green eyes stared up at him.

"Fia?" he whispered, disbelieving.

Serafina nodded, her head still in his hands – the same flurry of movement registered in his grip. A smile broke onto his face and he laughed in relief, a weak smile played on her colourless face.

Aragorn lifted his head to see the anxious faces of his companions staring at him in silence. He grinned at them and answered their unspoken question, his voice triumphant over the blistering storm, "She's alright, she lives."

...


	25. Chapter 25

A/N: Thanks for the feedback reviewers! Reviews are not only welcomed they are cherished!

Disclaimer: Pretty much isn't mine… except for Serafina, and everything that goes with her.

Chapter Twenty-five

Aragorn knelt at her feet, rubbing them vigorously. Serafina did not know if she would die of the cold or of embarrassment, but she was certain one would claim her soon. She was sitting slightly further away from the fire than the rest of the company on Aragorn's instructions, with an angry blush on her face. The sip of Elvin cordial Gandalf had given each of them, had restored much of Serafina's presence of mind, but it had not however driven the frostbite from her feet. The Ranger had explained that to have any hope of regaining full use of her them, her feet needed to be warmed gradually which, apparently, meant rubbing with snow. The image of Strider, Aragorn the heir to the Throne of Gondor massaging her battered, frozen feet grated sorely on her pride.

Soon Aragorn began rubbing them with some form of balm. She did not ask what it was. They were camped half way back down the mountain pass they had so recently climbed. Their fire was protected by the overhanging cliff wall that formed a half-open cave, providing them with a little shelter. An outlandish silence fell presently onto the night. Serafina listened, but for the first time in days there was nothing to hear.

"And so, the storm passes" said Gandalf quietly from his place, seated between Legolas and Frodo. Serafina glanced around the fellowship, each of them sat, huddled close to the fire. Soon they re-engaged in a conversation she was sick of hearing. Boromir was still trying to push for heading to the Gap of Rohan, Serafina secretly agreed with him. It certainly seemed more agreeable than a mine, but the mine was still infinitely more preferable to the Mountain. In any case, she was glad her opinion was not called for because she would be loathed to admit agreement with Boromir. Gandalf remained solid in his conviction that the Gap of Rohan was closed to them, and as Frodo had chosen Moria, that would be their path.

The conversation frustrated Serafina immensely, it kept going around and around in circles; each participant stating their views and disagreeing with the last's. Legolas was not keen on Moria, which gave Serafina a little prick of pleasure. Gimli thought it the best possible course. Frodo did not openly participate but he was constantly named in the discussion and he listened attentively. No participant brought any new arguments to their case, yet still the conversation endured. Serafina looked across at Merry; he had been listening too with a frown fixed on his face. He looked at her then rolled his eyes extravagantly, Serafina smiled in agreement.

Earlier in the evening Aragorn had stated his opinion as he checked each of their limbs for traces of frostbite. He was not partial to the mines, yet openly admitted he thought it their only option. He had only contributed his thoughts once. Serafina thought she would have had a more pleasant evening if the rest of the company had followed Aragorn's example – speak your mind once and move on, then she remembered the Ranger kneeling at her feet and she realised nothing could have made this evening pleasant.

Sensation began to burst into her feet, painful explosions ignited where Aragorn's hands pressed into her. She fought the urge to recoil her feet, but couldn't help a twitch of pain as he paid particular attention to her little toe. His eyes snapped up immediately, "Does it sting?" he asked.

Serafina could only nod. She did not trust her voice to answer for her. She felt the pressure ease but he did not desist.

She glanced around her, looking for something to distract her. Gimli was once again boasting about the hospitality awaiting them. His comments were largely directed at Legolas who was having trouble ignoring him. Merry and Pippin were helping themselves to the remainder of the evening meal. Gandalf sat alone, with his eyes fixed on the fire. Boromir too sat alone transfixed by something opposite him. Serafina followed his gaze, it lead directly to Frodo, where the hobbit sat in silence next to Sam.

Aragorn had moved his attentions to another painful area; she twitched again involuntarily, but ignored it. She turned back to Boromir, wondering desperately how to break his focus. But Aragorn interrupted her musings.

"Fia," he began. She smiled at the familiar nickname. She had not heard it since Olin himself had spoken to her – that was until today. She remembered her surprise at seeing Aragorn's eyes when she'd woken from her unconsciousness; they'd looked so blue against the grey storm. She had expected to find herself dead in Olin's company. After later deliberation she realised she should have known she was not dead. Wherever Olin's soul had gone, she did not believe she would be allowed to join him there. A pang of anguish for his needless death crossed her face, she imagined her expression looked something like Aragorn's had before he'd opened his eyes to see her awake. The depth of pain she'd seen in his features scared her slightly. His voice brought her back to the present, "Does the name upset you?" he asked quietly. She could tell it was not what he had planned to say, that it was her expression that triggered his concern.

"No, I like it," she said brushing his concern aside, "I just haven't heard it in a long time" she explained and smiled again. Suddenly she remembered Boromir and her head swung in his direction rapidly. To her relief Merry and Pippin sat either side of him; Pippin seemed to be detailing his family tree. Boromir's eyes though, still sneaked to look at the ring bearer every couple of seconds. The smile vanished from her face.

"You would do well to leave him alone," Aragorn said quietly, looking at her feet.

Serafina did not answer.

When he spoke again she noticed he was careful to keep his voice quiet, "Despite his faults, Boromir is a –"

"Noble man, yes," she said to him in a fierce whisper, "I know."

"Then why do you harass him so? Do you not appreciate his efforts to help save your life?"

"To be completely honest with you, Aragorn," she said his name with a sneer, "his efforts to save my life will have little bearing on my actions."

"You do this for sport?" it was more of a statement than a question, disgust clear in his voice.

"My motives are not your concern."

Aragorn stared at her, his face slowly rearranging itself as he contemplated her. Serafina could not bring herself to look at him any longer. Thoroughly repulsed with herself, she looked to where the two hobbits had been busy distracting Boromir, only to find none of them there. Quickly she glanced around to locate the man. Eventually her eyes fell on Pippin he gave her a grim smile and pointed to Boromir's apparently sleeping form. She nodded at him then peeked at Aragorn, to check to see if the exchange had gone unnoticed.

It hadn't.

"What are you up to?" he demanded looking her full in the eye, his hands paused at their work for the first time.

Serafina held his gaze. His eyes, that had seemed so blue earlier that day, were back to their normal bluish grey. It would be so easy to tell him, she knew, so easy to confess that she was simply trying to help, in her own abstract way. But habit or stubbornness held her lips closed. Suddenly Merry appeared at her side.

"I think we should tell him," he said to her seriously. Serafina raised her eyebrows in surprise, but Merry just shrugged his shoulders and continued, "It's not like it's a secret really anymore, you saw him earlier," he directed the last comment to Aragorn, who shook his head in bewilderment. Merry looked at Serafina for help but she kept her mouth closed and looked down at the snow. Merry sighed then began the explanation; "Pippin and I noticed a change in Boromir a few days ago. We think that, well," he paused as he came to the awkward part of the topic. Serafina kept her eyes fixed firmly downwards. "We, that is Pippin and I, suspected that the Ring is beginning to, I don't know… have some power over him" he finished clumsily. Serafina commended Merry in her mind; he had spoken with such delicacy, as that Boromir's character remained untarnished, something Serafina knew she was incapable of.

She listened intently for a response from the Ranger, eventually he sighed and said, "I sincerely hope that you are wrong Master Hobbit, but the safest way is caution. Why did you not voice this earlier?"

Merry took a moment to adjust his answer, Serafina took a breath and raised her head to look at the hobbit, making sure to avoid Aragorn's eyes. Seated as they were, Merry stood taller than both herself and Aragorn. His face was solemn when he finally answered, "Pippin and I, sometimes we feel like we're not taken very seriously because we weren't exactly hand picked to come on this quest, we just refused to be left behind."

Serafina could deny herself no longer; she turned to Aragorn, desperate to see what she would find in his face. Aragorn regarded the Hobbit gravely as he spoke, "I hope that from now you will be assured that each member of this fellowship regards yourself and all your kind with nothing but the deepest respect and the highest esteem. Never be afraid to seek the counsel of friends. If ever you are ridiculed for seeking advice from a friend, you will at least know the trueness of their character."

Serafina felt a pang of agony inside her. Here she saw true friendship being professed with the most sincerity she had heard in her life. For a moment she wondered if indeed she could go back to her old life when she was eventually freed from this quest. Fortunately she was spared further contemplation when Aragorn began to speak again.

"So you decided to tell Serafina?" he asked with perfect neutrality. If she had not seen the hostility brewing in his eyes before Merry had come to her aide she might have almost believed the unbiased tone of his voice.

"We thought that she could divert his attention the best," he answered with a ghost of a smile.

Aragorn nodded in reply and his hands took up their task again, Serafina fought to keep her face passive as the pain washed over her afresh. She closed her eyes and concentrated on breathing.

"Pippin is telling Gandalf now," Merry said, his voice had nearly regained its usual animation.

"You have done well, little hobbit," said Aragorn kindly. Serafina heard some shuffling of feet and realised Merry had gone. She felt her guard slip a little and a slight grimace of pain passed across her face. "You should have told me," Aragorn said to her.

She looked at him, expecting to find disappointment on his face. Instead his expression was lighter than she'd seen it in days. He looked up from her feet and smiled. It wasn't a casual, carefree smile, but it was very far from what she'd been expecting.

"I couldn't," she said quietly surprised at his offer of friendship.

"Why not? I would not have rebuked you."

Serafina opened her mouth and closed it a couple of times, trying to find the words that eluded her. How would she explain? Eventually she forced the words out of her mouth, they came out stiffly and stilted but it was the best she could do. "I didn't feel comfortable talking to you…" she left off the second half of the sentence, she was not ready to apologise.

A sudden snigger emerged from the Ranger. She looked at him quizzically; his friendly smile had changed into a very uncharacteristic self-satisfied smirk. He barely tried to hide his amusement as he replaced her socks on her feet and began to relace her boots.

"What?" she demanded finally, unable to remain unaffected as he grinned to himself.

Aragorn removed the smile from his face, but shook his head. After he had finished with her boots he sat next to her and took up her injured arm. He did not remove the dressing, but instead turned it over gently in his hands, pressing it gently in this place then that.

"Does that hurt?" he asked absent-mindedly.

"No," she lied.

He looked at her and frowned, clearly recognising the lie. "Fia," he said warmly, "I cannot help you as well as I could if you were honest with me. Pain does not signify weakness."

"Fia," she remarked smiling, "it is lucky you thought of it."

"Of what?"

"The name, of course" she said casually.

"How would I have thought of it? Serafina, you are deliberately evading me. It is important that I know how badly this wound affects you," he said gently.

The mildness of his voice struck her, it crossed her mind briefly that he must have forgiven her concerning Arwen or Boromir, though she did not know which. But something was gnawing at the corners of her mind. She frowned at him then said, "I don't know how you thought of it. But it is lucky that you did," reinforced Serafina.

He stoped pressing her arm and looked at her, "I never said that I thought of 'Fia'."

"But you did" she countered.

"I called it yes," he said, "But you are indebted to Boromir. He remembered the name from the boy, Olin."

Serafina froze and stared at Aragorn in confusion – it was not possible for Boromir to have heard her name from Olin, Olin was killed before they had realised he'd taken her place. Suddenly with a force greater than she had ever felt, comprehension fell upon her. Fury replaced confusion.

Mind blank but for one thought she ripped her arm out of Aragorn's grasp and scanned the company. Eyes settling on her object she flung herself across camp, drawing a dagger as she ran. She was on top of Boromir in an instant. Panting frantically, she rolled him over so that he was facing her and pressed her dagger to his throat with her right hand, holding his shoulder to the ground with her uninjured left arm. Boromir woke instantly, he could have pushed her off easily but the cool metal pressing against his neck made him hesitate.

"You knew!" she screeched.

"Knew what, Thief?" he yelled at her, enraged.

"You knew it wasn't me!"

Boromir didn't answer but moved to grab her arm holding the threatening dagger. Serafina felt his tight grip close around her injured wrist, and let out a cry of pain, but she did not drop her weapon. Realising his advantage he strengthen his grip. Serafina could hear yelling and movement through the rest of the party, but she ignored them. The pain in her wrist was unbearable, but she tried to focus on holding the dagger – it was her one advantage. If she lost her grip she knew she would lose the fight. She felt her face twist in pain and in hate as she stared at the man underneath her.

"Deny it then, if you can!" she screamed at him.

"How can I deny what I don't know I have done?" he asked struggling beneath her to a sitting position.

With all of he force she slammed him back down into the cold snow, but the effort she exerted compromised her grip on her dagger and Boromir took the opportunity to twist her wrist. She cried out in agony and the weapon dropped uselessly to the cold ground. Boromir wasted no time. Before she knew it she was being pressed up against the wall of the mountain that sheltered their camp. Boromir's face was inches from her own.

"By what right do you attack a sleeping man?" he asked dangerously.

Serafina met his eye, her face misshapen with loathing as she regarded him. She tried to grasp for a weapon but Boromir held her fast. She turned up her nose in disgust and spat in his face. He stood so close that her saliva splattered back into her own.

He wiped his face on his sleeve, turning red with rage.

"By what right did you knowingly kill an innocent boy?" she yelled at him. Boromir stood immobilized, comprehension dawning in his face. "Did you think I would not figure it out?" she questioned him venomously, "You should have kept your secret. Now I swear I will not rest until all of Middle-Earth knows what you did," she paused as she struggled against him, but Boromir was unmovable. Serafina remained wedged between him and the cold hard rock behind her. She took his silence as an admission of guilt and plunged on bitingly, "How did you justify it to yourself; because he did it to save me and I did not deserved to be saved? Or maybe because you thought his life wasn't worth the air it consumed? What was it?" she demanded, her voice manic. His face was stony, blood running from it, turning it a pale grey colour. She thrashed under his weight, filled with burning rage, "How did you look into his eye and speak to him only to kill him out of spite?"

Aragorn watched in disbelief as she erupted at Boromir, he'd had to convince Legolas to lower his bow – he had only succeeded once Boromir had disarmed her. His concern for the lives of them both prevented him from getting caught up in the accusations being made by Serafina, he heard them and the seriousness of it registered but he could not afford to fully engage in the situation. He sensed Boromir's own anger abating slightly and nodded to Legolas. Together they pulled the man off Serafina. He saw from over Boromir's shoulder that she was running towards them.

"Legolas!" he instructed, looking pointedly towards the girl. The elf understood and ran to intercept her. She struggled in the elf's arms but she could not escape him. Boromir resisted Aragorn, but he did not make for the girl. The Ranger let him go and looked around the company. The hobbits were all standing staring at the scene. Gimli had his axe in his hand but it hung forgotten by his side as he looked from Boromir to the girl. Gandalf was the only member of the fellowship who had remained seated, but his keen eyes danced between the two. Legolas still contended with Serafina's struggling as she yelled insults at him for holding her back. Boromir was pacing, trying desperately to keep his self-control.

Aragorn took a step towards him, blocking his path. "What is going on?" he demanded.

Boromir looked him in the eye, and said loudly, "She is accusing me of something I did not commit."

"Liar!" screamed Serafina from behind the elf.

"I am not lying," said Boromir quietly. Aragorn searched his face, and saw the truth in his voice reflected in his face.

"Then why does she accuse you of it? We know the boy was killed in her place," asked Aragorn, his voice level.

"You know a lie," Boromir said to him, lowering his head.

"Then she deserves the truth!" he said fiercely.

"It will bring her no comfort," Boromir said, a warning sharp in his eye.

"Tell her!" he said through gritted teeth and pushed him in the direction of Legolas and Serafina who still writhed in the arms of the elf.

"Look at that Boromir!" she cried triumphantly, "Not even Aragorn will defend you now that he knows the depth you sank to."

"You don't know what you are talking about." He said quietly, but loud enough for all to hear.

"I know," she all but spat, "that for you to have heard my name from Olin means that you would have had to have spoken with him. Which means you would have seen that you had the wrong person, and still you killed him anyway! Then you spread the story of my infamy; how I deceived my friend and switched places with him to fool the guard, all to escape my own death. Serafina; the thief child of Gondor, betrayer of trust. I can imagine how you delighted in killing him, determined to punish me in whatever way you could."

Boromir strode towards her, for a moment Aragorn though he would have to restrain the man again but he stopped at Legolas' back to look Serafina full in the face. "I did not kill him," he said. Boromir's head was so close to Serafina's that Aragorn was unable to see her face. But her voice rang clearly into the night.

"Just because you did not perform the killing yourself does not clear your guilt."

"Be quiet!" Boromir yelled into her face, "Your precious Olin never died – we spread the story of his death as an attempt to appeal to your better nature, an attempt that failed."

"You lie!"

"And what motivation would I have to lie to you now? You know that I know the name 'Fia', which, as you said indicates that I spoke to the boy. If you knew him at all, you would have known that it would have taken longer than a few hours to prise any kind of information from him. And it was only a few hours after we found him that we decided to spread the story of the tragic swap. To this day he has never spoken to us! He would not have given you up so quickly, not even your little pet name. For months he remained certain that one day I would come to visit him only to find the cell empty because Serafina had come to rescue him. It tortured him for years, as day after day went by with no sign of you. It was then that I learnt your name, he would cry out in his sleep 'Fia! Serafina!' over and over. Day by day he withdrew further into himself and I pitied the wretched boy. We began to consider a release, certain as we were that the thief Serafina had no heart and had abandoned Gondor and Olin. But slowly we began to realise that we could not just release the boy. He had grown into a man, he was wiry, strong and his mind was unstable. He had turned into a caged monster, speaking rarely and making little sense when he did, as insane as he was cruel. We had to transfer him away from the other prisoners, two of our men died in the process. Since then we haven't dared to move him. We have a constant guard at his cell; they call it the deathwatch. I wish now the story were true, that he was killed in your place. But as it stands, I am only responsible for the fact that he lives, but on your shoulders rests the blame for who he has become."

Stunned silence met the night as Boromir turned away from Serafina. Aragorn saw her face; she looked like a stranger to him. She stood against the elf, her large eyes watching the retreating back of Boromir, her lips slightly parted, forgotten. She looked like a creature without hope, without anything. Presently Boromir turned back to her and said from across the camp, "You asked what I would do with you when we make it to Gondor. I would march you to the dungeons of Minas Tirith and present you to your friend. I would make you realise the full consequence of your betrayal. And I would leave you there, at his mercy."

Aragorn watched as Serafina crumpled against the elf, tears streaming down her desolate face, leaving tracks through the grime on her cheeks.


	26. Chapter 26

A/N: After being pestered to update 'very soon', I have done my best to deliver ;) Sorry if it was not quite as quick as you wanted… The previous chapter was hard to follow.

Please enjoy! …And if you enjoy, please review!

...

Chapter Twenty-six

Aragorn watched Serafina as she walked in front of him. She had lost much of her vivacity since the night spent on their way down the mountain and had not spoken at all the next day, until night when he checked on the withdrawal of her frostbite and tended her arm.

He had tried to console her, but she would not hear him. She'd sat in front of him, her eyes cast down, apparently ignorant to his many failed attempts to get her to talk. Eventually he resigned his endeavours at conversation and focused solely on her wrist. He asked her a number of times if where he was pressing hurt, but she did not respond in any way. As a last attempt at obtaining a sign of life from her blank face he'd asked loudly, "Fia? Does this hurt?" He had not planned on mentioning the pet name again for fear of reigniting the pain she must be feeling. But any form of feeling would have been preferable to the deadness she exuded.

Her eyes met his for the first time all day and her expression unreadable as she looked at him. She lowered her eyes to her arm where his hands held it softly. "No," was all she'd said, before she turned away and stared into the night.

He sighed as he brought himself back to the present. His pack clanked as he walked, heavier for the addition of her many daggers to its contents. She had not even argued when he's asked them from her. She'd pulled them numbly from her boots, thighs and belt. Since entering the mines she had, at least, looked at people but none of her usual spark had returned to her. Aragorn tried to convince himself that all she needed was time to digest the tragic circumstances and accept them if she could. But as yet he was not persuaded, and continued to worry as he watched her small frame walk on before him.

Serafina strode on, her mind oddly blank. She knew only to follow the elf in front of her. Occasionally thoughts of spite would cross her mind as she remembered how little Legolas had been looking forward to entering the mines, but her own unhappiness at the void of blackness overran her unkindness and her mind returned to its blank state. She didn't stumble, though the ground was strewn with loose rocks, for she never looked far beyond her feet, untrusting of the small ledges they traversed.

They travelled in silence. Intermittently her mind would meander back to that evening on the hillside. In instances like this she would thrust it mercilessly back into Moria, concentrating of the shape and texture of the stone beneath her recently healed feet, a topic much more easily dealt with.

Serafina trusted that time was passing, though it's passage was imperceptible. They were surrounded by the same level darkness whether they were walking, sleeping or eating. Gandalf, however, seemed still able to determine meal times (though the hobbits thought he was deliberately stretching these out to speed the journey), and eventually he stopped them for a would-be lunch on their second day through the mines.

The company began the cheerless preparations for a meagre lunch. Serafina excluded herself slightly from the circle – she did not feel like conversing. There was, however, little conversation to be had, each of them caught up in there own world of bleakness. She caught Gandalf looking her way as they ate in silence; she met his eye with a challenge, but he looked away slightly agitated. Serafina thought she heard him mutter something about a pipe, but she was beginning to think she could not trust her ears or eyes in the darkness.

Serafina began to fidget. Distractions from her mind were scarce and images of a broken and crazed Olin began to flood her senses – he was unrecognisable from the boy she'd known. Horrified at the tricks her mind was playing on her she tried to bring what was before her eyes into her mind. Something reddish swam into view next to her, she recognised Gimli's beard in the pale light from the Wizard's staff. A breath of relief escaped her and she turned her face unknowingly into Aragorn's penetrating gaze. She balked at its intensity and wondered if some of what she'd seen in her mind had displayed itself on her face.

Tearing her eyes away from him she stood sharply and took a swig from her water skin as Gandalf's voice broke the silence, "Boromir, have you ever visited the bulrushes of the Anduin, nearest to Minas Tirith?"

Serafina gasped. Water flew down her windpipe, a strangled noise escaped her and a few of the fellowship turned towards her. Gandalf continued heedless, "I have heard it is a place where many things can be found." Serafina coughed and spluttered, water spaying uncontrollably from her nose and mouth. A gruff cry of disgust sounded beneath her.

Still coughing harshly she looked down to see Gimli standing, his face as red as his beard and as wet as the Anduin. Before she'd had time to react to the sight laughter exploded around her. Gimli too chuckled good-humouredly and slapped her powerfully on her back, "There now lass," he said as he continued hitting her, she nearly fell face first into the ground from the force. "Get it out. You're alright."

She straightened slightly and Boromir's voice rose above the laughter, "How did you like it Gimli?" he asked flippantly, "You too have had the thief spit in your face."

"There are only seven of us left now lassie, want me to line 'em up for you?" Gimli asked as he wiped his face on his cloak, chortling at his joke.

Serafina couldn't resist, a grin spread across her face and she felt part of the burden she'd been carrying for the past three days lift as she saw the faces of the fellowship smiling with amusement in the dim light. She turned to Gimli and a roguish glint appeared in her eyes, "Please," she answered, "I'll just need some more water".

…

The mood of the party had lifted slightly after Serafina spat over Gimli. Aragorn's lips curled into a smile at the memory, as he trudged onwards through the mines. The levity though was short-lived, and over the next day the atmosphere remained dark. He looked around him as he walked, noting the sheer scale of the mines, or what he could make out in the blackness.

That evening the hobbits attempted to lighten the oppressiveness by recounting stories. Aragorn listened in the darkness, as Legolas took his turn and began to narrate the introduction to the tale of Beren and Lúthien. His expression became grim as he thought of Arwen. His mind wandered, he asked himself if he shouldn't have insisted on her leaving, it was not what she had wanted after all. But she left nonetheless. Had she stayed, would their story have become as legendary as the Lay of Lúthien? Had they been destined to be joined? Had he altered the course of fate by ensuring her safety? He pondered the consequences of his demanding that she leave. Had it been necessary, he wondered. Was love not enough?

He was wrenched back to the present by the sound of a voice that seldom spoke over meals.

"A story?" Serafina asked, surprise at being spoken to written all over her face, "About love? There is one I know, though it is quite different to yours…" she warned, indicating to Legolas.

"It is your turn," said Gandalf matter-of-factly, "You may tell whatever you choose."

"Very well," she said.

Aragorn saw a light come into her eyes, one he had not seen in days. He listened intently as she began to talk.

"Once upon a time, there lived a woman. She was young and beautiful, but her splendour was not of the elves for she belonged to the race of men. She was at once arresting and yet subtle like the light at dusk. Any man who ever saw her would describe her beauty in the same words, as if learnt by rote. Her eyes were wide and soft, yet never betrayed their secrets to the beholder. Her hair was the same black as midnight, and her mouth was full and yielding – as that no man who had seen her talk or smile was able to resist wondering what it would feel like under their own. Simply to run their lips across it would bring such pleasure that no other indulgence in the world could produce. Her stature was not tall, yet her figure was so balanced that all other women, no matter their beauty or height, appeared awkward and lacking by comparison." She paused to take breath; Aragorn could not take his eyes off her. Her beauty had become painful to him. He watched her mouth, it appeared so soft and compliant that he began to wonder what –

"Ahem," someone cleared their throat loudly. Aragorn started, and looked around for the interrupting noise. Gandalf surveyed the company with a raised eyebrow and Aragorn followed his gaze. All around him the gentlemen of the fellowship were shaking their heads, some looking slightly sheepish, others rubbing their eyes. He knew they'd had similar wonderings in their own minds – Gandalf alone had remained impervious. With fresh eyes he turned back to Serafina; it was with relief he saw that she looked once again like herself. She continued the story, unaware that they had been momentarily bewitched. Aragorn wondered briefly whether it had been some trick by the darkness of Moria, or the magic of the story. The question though, was driven out of his mind as she spoke.

"She knew her talent – her beauty had won her many admirers over the years and she began to use it for her advantage. One by one, men fell into her net, declaring their lives nothing without her. They pledged themselves to her alone, forsaking all others; family, lovers, wives, children, friends. The woman however left each man in turn, leaving each with nothing but their broken hearts and lives to keep them.

"One day she met a man who loved her beyond all others. She'd planned to disappear from his life like she had with the other hopeless men, but this man was equal to her. He caught her in his own trap and led her to matrimony. Be still she would not be held captive. As soon as she could, she escaped him and their child and went on in search of her next victim.

"The King of the land soon fell under her spell. He was mesmerised like countless before him by her grace and beauty – never did he wonder why this exquisite creature had chosen him. The woman seduced him so completely that the King's wife, who he had loved so dearly and who had born him two sons was forgotten in a moment. The seductress wound her way around his heart – pumping her poison through his veins, securing her hold on him.

"All this time, her husband who had won her fairly, refused to forget her or to be forgotten in turn. He followed her to the castle and watch through a window as she betrayed him. Soon the torture became too much and one night he stole into the castle. In the black of night he dragged his obsession away from all that she knew hoping it would be enough to win her. He promised himself that now her affection for him would be undying.

"But still she escaped him. Years past, but the husband did not forget her. The child grew, becoming more like the woman every day. A morning dawned when he could not look at his own child without bitterness overcoming his heart. Spite began to fill him. He took the child to the steps of the castle and demanded an audience with the King. The King saw him, gracious yet grave. And then he saw the child. The King insisted on the child's heritage but the man pretended not to know, saying only that its parents could not stand the sight of it. He asked if the King would not take the child. He himself could not care for it alone. The King regarded the child with fear in his eyes; the face he'd known so well had come back to haunt him. He wondered if the ghost of his wife was behind it – he had found his Queen dead in their old chambers the morning after the woman had left without explanation in the night. The healer had told him that her heart had been weak for years, and had finally given in. The King knew this to be the truth – only his actions had been the cause. Guilt, like he hadn't felt in years assailed him. Immediately he went to the room where he'd found his wife dead in their bed and took his own life, leaving the man and child standing alone in the castle.

"The husband went forth, dragging the child in his wake to find his wife. No one knows what became of them. Some say he took his own life, wracked by bitterness and hate. Others think he is still out there, in search of her. The only certainty is that the seductress still walks the lands, ensnaring all who see her."

Silence fell on the air. Serafina smiled as she surveyed the company, every last one of them staring at her as though spellbound. One by one they came back to themselves, as if each waking from a dream.

"I have heard a similar story, though without the child," said Boromir, his expression unreadable for the darkness.

"And so have we all about such enchantresses," said Gandalf grumpily, "Beauty is often as much a blessing as it is a curse."

"Could you tell another?" asked Gimli.

Serafina smiled with amusement, but answered, "No, I certainly could not. I don't know any others."

"What do you mean you don't know any others?" asked Merry doubtfully. The thief opened her mouth to answer, but Sam interrupted.

"Of course she knows others, she just doesn't want to tell them. Such is the way she is, you know" he said sourly, "She's obviously had plenty of practice telling them. I'll wager she's read hundreds of nasty stories like that one and they're all stored up in her head, only for telling when she chooses."

Serafina blushed profusely at his words, she was grateful for the darkness but she could not help thinking it may not have escaped the elf or the Ranger. At his words Aragorn stood and addressed the company with finality, "As you do not have watch, I suggest you take some rest Master Hobbits, we rise early."


	27. Chapter 27

A/N: Thank you reviewers! Your support is inspiring :)

I am trying my hardest not to directly re-write scenes, however in some instances I think I will find that they cannot be passed over. Those that cannot, I will try to keep new and exciting for you, but I think Serafina's perspective will do most of the work for me! If the fighting is too graphic or not graphic enough let me know. My only goal is (relative) realism - obviously I have never been in a battle. As I have always said - feedback is welcome!

Sorry about the wait for this chapter. I got distracted by Mr. S. Bean in a certain TV show.

Enjoy!

And Review!

...

Chapter Twenty-seven

Serafina woke to darkness. If possible Moria seemed even darker in this supposed morning than it had the night before. Her dreams, which were slipping away from her as consciousness took hold, left imprints in her vision from the vividness of their colour.

They set off with little fuss, walking single file through the blackness. Occasionally Gandalf would point out the more impressive features of the mines, risking more light from his staff. These moments made the thief anxious and she began wishing for her daggers. The knowledge that she was practically unarmed made her uneasy. The one tiny knife she had left was a last resort and would not make much of a dent in whatever it was that had purged Moria of life.

She glanced up from the dark stone to the figure in front of her. Legolas walked with his head held high, his own weapons proudly displayed on his person. She did not know if she could steal from him without his feeling it, and indeed his weapons were too large for her to take and conceal. She also had no clue how to wield them. Giving up on him, she glanced behind her quickly - Aragorn strode on, looking behind them into the darkness. He would certainly catch her if she tried anything.

Aragorn hardly missed anything at all that happened within the company. He might not have quite the perception of Gandalf but he certainly saw too much. Her mind wandered back to the previous evening. Aragorn had been so quick to come to her rescue when Sam had accused her of having read a great number of stories and simply being unwilling to share. She was certain he had seen her blush, though she was also certain he had misunderstood its cause.

Abruptly an idea came to her. She smiled in the darkness - knowing it would work, but for it to work she needed to trust him. She searched herself and found that trust of Aragorn came quickly, but much depended on timing and execution.

The thrill of adrenaline pumped through her as she worked through the plan in her mind. She knew precisely where each of his weapons hung on his belt, his short knife was her prize and it rested towards the front of his right hip. Cautiously she tested her right hand. It was stiff and painful to move, but it was not unbearable. She had used it without thinking on numerous occasions now and though Aragorn admonished her for it and frowned at her as he painstakingly re-did the healing he'd done previously, she knew it would not fail her when she needed it.

Carefully she slowed her pace, he would need to be close to her for her plan to work. She turned her head to the right slightly, feigning interest in the surroundings - in truth her eyes, which she had always considered to be quick and sharp, were inadequate in such company and in such a dark environment. The only member of the fellowship whose eyesight seemed poorer than hers was the dwarf, and that did not console her. It was true she did not know if Boromir's senses were superior to her own but she tried to not pay attention to him in that way - she knew she would be mortified if it turned out that he too could see further and hear clearer.

Pushing away such trivial thoughts she saw the Ranger out of the corner of her eye. Quickly she assessed the distance between them - he seemed to be close enough. She sent up a quick prayer, something she had not done in a while, and five words ran through her head 'let him be quick enough'.

Suddenly, Serafina was falling forwards and sideways. She flailed her arms wildly, grabbing desperately for something solid, but it was no use. Her feet fell over and over one another, balance had left her. She let out a shriek of panic as she tumbled closer to the edge of the narrow walkway, blackness lay below her eyes.

"Fia!" Aragorn cried. A quick smile bypassed her mouth and went straight to her eyes as familiar strong hands wrapped themselves around her waist. Serafina kept her breathing sharp and erratic but her mind was focused. As if by reaction she let her hands fly behind her to grab hold of her rescuer. Her accuracy pleased her. The small knife lay directly under her right hand. She kept hold of him with her right hand, and her left hand grabbed onto his arm around her waist and gripped it tightly in relief. He pulled her backwards away from the shear drop, his own breath heaving against her neck. She waited patiently.

Safely away from the edge Aragorn spun her around to face him. Her hand clutched the handle of the knife and it came silently with her. He searched her face, his eyes brimming with concern turning to relief. She let him look at her for an instant, momentarily absorbed by his eyes. But the task was not complete. Serafina bowed her head and let it rest on his chest, she was surprised by the mix of feelings racing through her; the familiar sense of success danced through her body, the knife was in her possession, and she was at least slightly better armed than before. But other feelings she had not expected also flooded through her and threatened to rattle her calm; relief she decided, was one of them. The rest of it was a curious mix of wariness and excitement. She shook her head, unaware that she did it against the man's chest - she still had the knife to hide before Aragorn saw her with it. Angry with herself for letting feelings distract her she slipped the knife in close against her wrist, then brought her arms up to her chest, ensuring to take deep, calming breaths. She hoped he would think she was taking a moment to compose herself. She could feel his heart beating strongly against her forehead and swallowed, she was becoming very aware of just how close to him she was. His scent began to fill her senses. Hastily she tried, again, to focus and slipped the knife down her shirt font. The thief hoped the small size of the knife, coupled with the loose fitting shirt would guarantee its concealment.

She had not hidden it a moment too soon - Aragorn's hand swept up under her chin and lifted her face up to meet his. She could do nothing but submit to his thorough inspection of her face. Something in his face frightened her, but she could not look away. After a moment the urging in her mind to run tempered and another urge began to take hold. She was scared by its force, and of how of how little she wanted to resist. With a start, she remembered that he thought he just saved her life and she opened her mouth to speak. At first nothing came out, she gritted her teeth but pretended it was an effect of her close encounter with the edge. She licked her lips and held his gaze firm, fighting the urge to shy away from his intensity.

"Thank you" was all she managed.

"You should be more careful," he said the torment in his voice was unbearable, "You rarely trip or stumble - this is not a place to let your mind wander, Serafina."

She nodded numbly and looked down, afraid to see what else was in his eyes.

"You alright lass?" came Gimli's voice through the darkness.

She nodded again, Aragorn let her go and answered in her stead, "Yes, she's alright. We should continue."

Serafina began to trudge on after the elf who shot her a look of pity. She worked very hard at trying to bring back the feeling of achievement from attaining her prize, but it eluded her. All that remain was trepidation that grew proportionally larger to the wild thrill that ran recklessly through her body. Soon the monotonous black of Moria pushed Serafina's escapade out of the fellowships' attention and when their attention was drawn by the wizard she hastily remove the knife from her front and slipped it down her high-laced boot.

Eventually Boromir broke the silence of the company's passage. He walked with the Wizard at the front of the group, yet through the still air his voice carried clearly behind him. "Gandalf, yesterday you asked me about the bulrushes of the Anduin near Minas Tirith…"

"Yes, so I did," Gandalf mumbled in reply, "I was reminded a few days ago about a trivial thing, from many years ago." His voice, though softly spoken and gruff was as discernible to Serafina as if he had been standing next to her. She listened with a frown as the Wizard continued, "My memory was triggered, incidentally, when our Serafina mentioned to me the method in which she came into the care of the man Garth. She said he found her in the bulrushes - her parents having abandoned her to the river," Boromir scoffed, but Gandalf kept talking, "My point however, is that after one particular visit to Minas Tirith I found a small boat of dried reeds hidden in the bulrushes, completely empty. Curious, no?"

"The Anduin is a long river, which many beings have access to - that something should be found on it's banks is certainly no curiosity," Boromir answered, but a tone in his voice belied his nonchalance.

Abruptly the file of travellers halted. Serafina heard Gandalf mumble that he was unable to recall this place from his memory - suddenly his previous conversation with Boromir held less weight over her.

They stopped and started in this manner throughout the day, Gandalf taking time to jog his memory, or to somehow sense the right direction. Conversations began to crop up among the fellowship as they travelled. Serafina remained silent, neither listening to nor interested in their discussions. Her mind wandered to the banks of the Anduin. She had never seen it before - not in waking memory at least. She believed what Garth had told her, that he found her in the bulrushes. He'd taken too much pride in telling her the sad tale of how she was unwanted by her parents for it to not be the truth. Why he'd taken her in, she couldn't guess. Certainly he'd been happy when he realised her skill as a thief, he trained her and she was an excellent student - naturally gifted at sneaking about. However the older she had grown, the more unsteady their relationship had become, until they resembled acquaintances with a deep dislike for one another.

She stayed in this semi-present state through many a wonder of Moria, a part of her appreciated the sheer scale of the mines and the accomplishment of the architecture. But only half of her mind walked the path through the mines, the other half wandered the streets of her childhood where Garth taught her thieving and told her stories to put her to sleep. Olin, she tried to forget.

A noise brought her crashing back into the present. She whirled around and was surprised to find herself in a small room filled with light like she hadn't seen in days. She was standing in a wide circle with the rest of the company around a tomb of sorts. Every face that her eyes searched was either worried, scared or grim. Thundering footsteps sounded through the passages they had walked in silence over the past few days. Her eyes widened. Automatically she drew Aragorn's knife from her boot, all around her the members of the fellowship were also readying their weapons. Frodo and Gandalf's swords glowed with an eerie blue light. Someone yelled "Orcs", and she was ushered towards the Wizard along with the Hobbits. Grey eyes swam in front of her. Aragorn regarded her with a mix of concern and disapproval.

"Where did you get that?" he demanded nodding at her left hand.

Serafina raised her eyebrows, was he really going to lecture her about theft when they were about to fight for their lives? "From your belt" she hissed in answer. Aragorn ripped it from her hand and thrust it into it's sheath. Serafina was outraged, "You would prefer me to fight without a weapon? What chance do you think I would have with my bare hands?"

"What do you think I am?" he asked her, his face probing. Swiftly he pulled the short sword Boromir had given her from his pack and handed it to her. He turned from her without another word and continued with preparations for the fight.

Serafina stood trembling next to the Hobbits but she did not look for an escape. Yes, she had survived the Wargs, twice. But that had been by luck. She certainly hoped these Orcs were not as big as the Wargs but she knew they would be armed. Movement caught her eye. She spun to face it but it was only Boromir, bouncing on his toes and swinging his blade in anticipation. She saw Gimli swaying his weight from side to side, Gandalf and Aragorn were also keeping their bodies moving. She followed their lead and bounced her weight from foot to foot, but she did not swing her blade like Boromir, it was not a dagger and she was not used to its length. Legolas alone stood perfectly still, but she knew he was ready. She had seen enough of Elves to know that he did not have to keep his body limber to spring into action on command.

The doors shuddered. Serafina looked at her sword and took comfort in having it in her hand. The Hobbits stood slightly behind her, Gandalf in front of them all. Suddenly the twang of Legolas' bow drew her attention. The first Orc had made it through, though he died instantly. Before a minute had passed the chaos of battle reigned.

Serafina ducked and weaved out of the grip of the Orcs. Three times she dropped her sword but by some luck she was able to pick it up before losing her head. Soon, Serafina realised the Orcs were not intelligent but this was little advantage to her as she knew nothing of battle. Eventually the Orcs began to make it past Gandalf's protection. Frantically she swung her sword at one, and missed. The creature smiled at her and licked its lips, it raised its twisted long knife, but Serafina held off the blow. Her wrist trembled - her left arm was not as strong as she needed it to be. He struck again, this time she only deflected it by the merest slice of luck. All around her the sounds of slicing and hacking met her ears. Her stomach revolved - no she had not had a sheltered life but stabbings in the dark were a far cry from mass killing. Her face pulled itself into a grim expression and she focused her mind on the thing in front of her. Stealing herself, she made the next advance, forcing the Orc to defend himself. He fought off her blows easily but as each blow fell onto him quicker and quicker his defences began to lag. With a cry of effort, Serafina plunged her sword into its belly while his sword arm was lifted high in the air from deflecting her previous blow aimed at his head. She tried to pull her sword out, but to her disgust it didn't slide out like it did when the others removed their swords from an enemy. Instead the Orc came crashing into her, her sword still embedding in its stomach. She began to panic, what if she had to fight without a weapon after all? Desperately she lifted her leg and put her foot against the dying creature. Both hands on her sword she yanked hard. Blood spurted out as her sword came free, covering her arms. The Orc fell instantly to the floor.

She spun desperately to see how the others faired and a horrid sight met her eyes. A massive beast lumbered around the small room, at least three times as tall as Aragorn and heavier than any creature she'd seen. He swung his enormous club recklessly around the room, splattering its captors heedlessly as it attempted to strike the travellers. Hastily she put as much distance between herself and the troll as possible. Orc after Orc appeared, she fought them off as best she could and ducked out of their weapons' reach. She saw one of them raise its arms over someone else in what looked to be a fatal blow. She yelled and thrust her sword through its back, it let out a scream that was lost in the noise of metal clashing against metal and flesh being ripped from flesh and slumped to the ground. Serafina grabbed her sword again with two hands and pulled it from the creatures back. A hand grabbed her arm and yanked her down to the ground. She landed on top of another dead Orc. Black blood covered her. She looked up to see a heavy swing of a spiked club pass through where she had been standing. A dull thud met her ears, then another. She rolled over and got onto her feat. The Hobbit Sam stood over the Orc with the spiked club, a thick fry pan in hand and a short, bloodied knife in another. He looked at his weapons in bewilderment and then at the Thief. She nodded at him in thanks and together they turned, back to back, a temporary allegiance formed for the battle.

The Hobbit and Serafina fought together when threatened, but inevitably they became separated. Soon she found herself backed into a corner, but the Orcs were becoming fewer though the troll was still wreaking havoc about the room. She watched panting from the corner with her heart in her throat and her stomach churning as her companions fought for their lives. Her eyes scanned the floor. Bodies and parts of bodies littered the ground so that minimal amounts of stone were visible under the carnage. Everything was black, grey or red. A mournful noise brought her gaze up to the beast. It was swaying, weapons and arrows sticking out from its stony flesh. It fell slowly. Serafina resisted the urge to cover her ears as she heard the dead bodies of the Orcs squash beneath it as it crashed onto the floor. She didn't want the fellowship to see her being squeamish.

Hastily she searched the faces of those still standing. Gandalf, Legolas, Gimli, Boromir, Merry and Pippin all stood facing three figures on the ground. Sam and Aragorn were knelt beside Frodo, who began to cough and splutter. The amazement on the fellowships' faces informed Serafina that they had thought him dead. Her eyes widened as she looked at him, slowly realising what a terrible burden Frodo's death would place on the remaining eight of the fellowship. If he died would his task, whatever it was, fall then to one of the others? Was that why there were four Hobbits? In case one died, then another? She frowned as she regarded Frodo. What fate would he bring upon the Lands?

Suddenly the Hobbit opened his shirt and revealed a vest of shining metal rings. The company began to talk, relief filling their voices. She continued to frown at Frodo. Slowly she became aware that the others were looking at her. She scowled at them and lowered her eyes, which fell on her arms. They were black with the blood of the Orcs. Her nose crinkled as the smell began to register. She wiped her sword on her blood-stained clothing, and hoped they would think she was only frowning for wonder at the beauty of the chain mail.

More drums sounded. Serafina's eyes widened, "There are more of them?" she cried in disbelief.

Boromir laughed and looked at her, "There are always more Orcs, Serafina - you will learn this."

Serafina looked around at the rest of the party, a few of them smiled weakly. Gandalf walked over to Frodo and heaved him to his feat, saying something that sounded like an instruction. The fellowship began to move quickly through the broken door and into the mines. Serafina stood speechless where she'd been standing, alone in the desecrated room. Aragorn appeared back in the doorway.

"Serafina - we must hurry," he said to her, motioning to follow.

She could only look at him. She knew her fear betrayed her, she knew that he could see it in her face.

"Serafina, now! Or you will be slaughtered like an animal!"

The cold truth in his voice touched her. Her eyes widened - what was she doing? She met his eyes; the urgency in his face pressed her, "Now!" he yelled.

She didn't need telling again. Serafina checked her sword was in her belt and ran towards the doorway. Aragorn took her left wrist in his hand and ran pulling her along behind him. She tripped over her feet, unable to keep up with his long strides. But he dragged her on, not letting her go until they reached the rest of the party, fleeing through the darkness.


	28. Chapter 28

Please review, but more importantly…

Enjoy!

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Chapter Twenty-eight

Serafina's feet flew, one after the other as she raced through the dark mines with the Fellowship. Her heart was pounding as she ran and could feel it beating hard against her chest. Her ears were filled with the cries of Orcs, the slapping of footsteps on stone and the ragged breathing from her own lungs and from the fellowship around her. She tried to block out the thundering groans coming from a distant glowing red behind them. Her eyes had widened in fear when Gandalf had explained that it was a Balrog. She knew nothing of such demons, but the alarm in the faces of the fellowship terrorised her; she knew now that she was with the deadliest and most skilful company in Middle-Earth, for them to show panic signified that the enemy was fearsome indeed.

They ran recklessly down the narrow passageways, though they had traversed similar ones previously with such caution. A couple of times Serafina nearly fell she was grateful that someone caught her, but she didn't know who. She herself saved Pippin from what would have been a fatal fall. He didn't stop to say thank you and Serafina was glad for it - every second was precious.

She realised suddenly that Aragorn was no longer behind her. For some reason he was in the lead, urging them on faster. Gandalf had taken Aragorn's place at the rear. This would have seemed strange to her but self-preservation pushed the information into the back of her mind; they were not out yet.

Her stomach was in her throat as they jumped over gaps in the thin staircases, and ran further still. Not until someone cried out "There!" did she let her mind entertain the idea of safety. With heavy relief she ran after the Hobbits towards the doorway where Aragorn stood urging them through. She smiled at Aragorn in disbelief at their escape as she neared him, but he stood transfixed with horror looking over her shoulder.

She turned as Frodo screamed something in defiance at the sight that met her eyes. Gandalf stood alone before a terrible fiend; the Balrog. The heat emanating from it scorched her cheek and dried her eyes as it stalled before the Wizard, as if flexing its strength before devouring its prey. The demon advanced on Gandalf, but to her amazement the bridge crumbled beneath it. Bitter hope flared through her - perhaps they all would make it out alive and whole. Aragorn's hand appeared on her shoulder, he pulled her back towards the hidden doorway, guiding her to the exit. His own eyes remained on his friend, who was turning to join them. She let her eyes leave the grey figure, and began to walk in the direction the Ranger was pulling her. She lifted her face to look at his, ready to offer again the smile of relief. But his expression changed again, his hand gripped her shoulder so hard she wanted to cry out with pain. But they cry never left her lips - it came from his instead. She looked around to see what distressed him, but there was nothing there. Frodo cried out the Wizards name again in desperation. Serafina searched the scene again, looking for Gandalf. Perhaps he had been hit by one of the arrows from the Orcs that began to shower around them like rain. But there was no Gandalf. Dread started to take hold of her.

Aragorn's grip had lost none of its strength, his fingers dug into her shoulder like a vice and suddenly she was stumbling under the force of his shoving. He threw her up behind the stone wall that concealed the exit without looking at her. She tripped but regained her balance. Boromir followed her dragging a screaming hobbit. She had no choice but to scramble out before him.

She stood, blinking hard in the grey daylight and Boromir pushed past her. Serafina had looked forward desperately to blues and greens as vivid as the yellow sun but the world was grey; sky, rock, mountain and fog shrouded forest - all grey. She began to walk around the desolate landscape, and savoured the fresh air as she took each breath. The air, she noted, was at least as fresh as she'd been anticipating but its sweetness was tainted by her own stink of unwashed skin and clothes sullied with orc blood.

She looked at the faces of the fellowship - she was afraid to see what might be confirmed by their expression, but she needed to know what they had seen. Despair met her. One by one she searched their eyes; every pair said the same thing; 'He's gone.'

Eventually her eyes settled on Aragorn as he emerged from the mines. Her shoulder was still throbbing from the force of his grip. His face was still; as if he received the pain he now endured with dark acceptance. It was his steadiness that rattled Serafina the most - he looked only more grim than usual. At that moment she saw a stranger in his place; a man she had never met, who had already lived a life she might never know of. A part of her longed to go to him to offer what comfort she might be able to provide, but memory tickled the corners of her mind. Legolas' words rang in her head 'You would do well to remember your place… On his shoulders rests the hope of man'. A coldness spread through her as she digested these words anew. Truly this man was a stranger, she knew nothing of him. She stood rooted in her place.

Mere moments later he spurred them on. There were objections for the sake of compassion, sorrow and grief but Aragorn was firm; time was still scarce. Serafina found herself running now through the fields and scattered trees as they headed towards a forest. Someone mentioned Elves as they ran and her heart sank, if possible, even further. Her mind did not want to accept his death and she did not know how they would survive without the guidance of the Wizard. She also did not know how she would survive another encounter with the elves, the last had not been so hospitable.

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Serafina barely spoke as the Elves of Lothlórien took them hostage and spoke late into night with Aragorn and Legolas. She wanted to object when a bag was placed over her head and she was led through the forest but her soul felt too heavy. She said nothing at all as they were brought before the Lord and Lady of the wood. Her nerves were stretched thin from the events of the past week; she had had little food, no rest and was standing high in the treetops of an Elf-inhabited forest - if the Gods themselves stood before her she would not have been able to speak even for a promise of eternal salvation.

When they returned to solid ground an elf-maiden led Serafina away from the company. She did not speak but simply walked before her with a half smile on her face. She walked to a secluded area of the citadel - Serafina's eyes widened and she smiled at the elf in joyous gratitude. A bath stood before her, steaming with fresh smelling soaps, and clean crisp clothing was waiting on a stool by the water. The elf maiden smiled in return and left her.

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She tried not to drag her feet as she walked towards her companions. Serafina did feel wonderful now that she was out of her bloodied, stinking clothing and now that she was clean herself, but she felt oddly exposed - as though her armour had been removed and she was now vulnerable to attack. She gritted her teeth - she knew she should not complain. The dress they had given her in the stead of her sullied clothes was practical, comfortable and did not restrict movement. The wool of the long sleeved undershirt and dark tights was thick and sturdy and not irritating. The dress itself was a nondescript dark grey, which fell straight to her ankles. To her immense relief the skirt was not flared in anyway, and had a high slit up the side of each leg for the purpose of uninhibited movement, particularly for horse riding and combat.

Head lifted high as she took a deep breath for strength. She did not know why her stomach was churning but she tried to put it out of her mind as she rounded a corner and the remaining eight of the fellowship came into view.

"Oh ho!" exclaimed Gimli, "Who is this lassie?"

Serafina scanned the group, each of them looking at her with an expression of mild surprise.

"I do not know, but she looks clean." Said the elf in reply, an eyebrow half raised and a mocking smirk upon his face. She scowled at him and he laughed and said in a provoking tone, "Well, there now - that pout puts me greatly in mind of the thief girl that has been travelling with us. Do you not think Aragorn?"

Aragorn's expression changed and an amused half smile appeared on his face. But he put down his sword that he had been cleaning and walked over to Serafina, his face changing to a look of mock consternation. Serafina's churning stomach did a sort of sickening flip as he closed the distance between them but she kept her face proud and lifted high. "I do not know," he answered once he was standing so close to her that she could see every weathered line upon his brow. A smile tweaked at his lips and he opened his mouth to speak again, "She certainly smells better than Serafina."

Boromir, Legolas and Gimli laughed heartily at his comment, even Merry and Pippin smiled weakly. Serafina put a haughty smile on her lips and lifted an eyebrow in challenge to the Ranger. He raised his own in acceptance. His hand lifted her chin to tilt her face towards his; he pretended to examine her face - as if trying to decide on her true identity. Serafina submitted to this attention with her shoulders thrown back, mustering as much pride as she could find. Suddenly a hand grabbed her right wrist and ripped it from it's place hanging by her side bringing it in front of her. She cried out in shock, more than in pain. But the damage was done.

"This is not Serafina," Aragorn said with a self-satisfied smile, "Serafina does not feel pain when other's would, and denies it if she does." He released her chin and her arm and threw her a smirk as he took a step away from her.

The companions laughed again at Serafina's expense and she permitted herself to smile. Boromir spoke up his voice full of mirth, "If this is not Serafina, what should we do with her? Do you think we could trade her for the thief?"

"Certainly it would be a good trade, but what would we do with the real Serafina?" asked Legolas, thoroughly enjoying the discomfort on the thief's face.

Serafina let a sheepish smile come onto her own face and said, "I wouldn't worry too much about her - I think she drowned herself in the bath water when the elves took her clothes away to be burnt."

Aragorn laughed along with Legolas, Boromir and Gimli. Merry and Pippin's smiles grew stronger as they watched the scene, and Serafina smiled the more for it. She felt suddenly lighter and fresher. As though her soul was being cleaned and mended by the laughter of her friends as the water has cleansed her filthy body.

A small voice spoke up from the edge of the scattered company. "Have you forgotten him already?" Frodo asked accusingly as he strode towards them. Serafina felt the smile wash off her face and the faces of the others in unison, like the tide washing off the shore. "What? A bit of dirt scrubbed off her and suddenly you've all forgotten about how he died to save us?" he paused and met each of their eyes in turn, letting his gaze linger longer on Serafina's face, "Forgive me if I am not so fickle a friend as to abandon his memory so quickly."

Slowly Serafina felt the weight that had been so recently lifted off her press down onto her shoulders; the death of the Wizard, the suffering of Olin, Boromir's growing obsession for the Ring, and the harsh words she'd said to the one member of this party who had showed her lasting friendship. Despair crept its tendril around her mind.

Serafina stayed only long enough to see Aragorn kneel before the hobbit, placing his hands on Frodo's shoulders. She saw the same sadness in his eyes that she felt on her heart, and she turned and stole her way away from their camp before she could hear what he said. She walked the woods until weariness took hold. At this point Serafina contemplated trying to find her way back to the others but she dreaded seeing their faces again. She did not want to see another sad face, she did not want to be reminded of the dangers she'd found herself in. She did not want to think about how quickly Gandalf had left them, and how easy it would be for the same thing to happen to her or one of the others. Soon she leant against a tree and sank to the forest floor. Sleep claimed her almost instantly, and she let her troubled thoughts blend seamlessly into troubled dreams.

#

Serafina woke late the next day, and rolled over luxuriously in her bedroll.

"Good afternoon lass," came Gimli's rough voice.

"What time is it?" she asked groggily, looking around the deserted camp. There was no one to be seen apart from the dwarf and Boromir, who sat against a tree sharpening a small knife.

"Past midday, but don't worry, the last of the hobbits only beat you by a half hour," he said with a gruff smile.

Serafina nodded slowly and sat up. Something niggled at her mind, she frowned then remembered the conversation from the night before, "I thought I fell asleep in the forest?" she said, confused.

"And so yeh did lassie!" he answered her, then continued in a quieter voice, "not that I think it was a good idea! I'm not sure what to make of this elf infested forest." He grumbled half to himself.

Boromir looked up from his knife. "Aragorn went out looking for you last night after you did not return," he said with an heir of superiority.

Serafina felt her cheeks colour, he must have found her and carried her back to camp. Gratefulness for her tangled hair covering her ears washed over her - her ears were burning with heat, she knew they would be as red a tomato. She ignored this as best she could and changed the subject, "Where is everyone?"

"Walking around the forest I guess," Gimli said with a strange tone in his voice. If Serafina had not been traveling with him for the past while she would have sworn she heard something like longing in his voice. Not knowing what to do with such information she decided to ignore it and found a water skin and splashed her face.

"Is there any food?" she asked looking around the camp.

"No," Gimli answered and gave her a curious look, then said in an attempt at a tactful voice, "the hobbits just left in search of some…"

Serafina scowled and noticed her appetite sliding away and a sick feeling sinking in. She was sure Frodo had been speaking more directly to her when he had admonished them for their careless banter last night. She knew it should not come as a surprise to her, but the dislike in his eyes had startled her when he'd looked at her. Certainly she'd taken the ring from him, but that seemed like months ago, even if it was only just over a week hence. She compared the angry, sad hobbit she had seen last night with the polite, mild mannered and slightly frightened one she had met in Bree and could barely reconcile the two.

With the scowl firmly set into her features she grabbed the sword Boromir had given her and sat down abruptly by the other two. With a frown of his own, though not directed at the thief, Boromir offered her a sharpening stone. She took it and set to work. A sombre silence fell between the three of them, each dwelling on their own misfortunes. She realised as she sat there in their silent company that the three of them were the only members of the group that were uncomfortable in this forest. She had always liked the dwarf, finding his company both easy and amusing, but what surprised her was the feeling of kinship that was being kindled in her towards Boromir. It was evident that he was as unhappy to be in Lorien as she was. She frowned deeper at the feeling, but pushed it aside and focused all her concentration on sharpening the short sword without hurting her damaged wrist.

It was in this unhappy silence that Aragorn found them. He felt a smile tug at his lips at this unlikely allegiance, and sat himself down between the thief and the man. Boromir nodded at him gravely and returned to his task. Gimli grunted at him and turned his attention back to staring into the forest. Serafina looked up at him and then back down at her sword. Aragorn watched her and saw the now familiar blush creep up her neck. He lowered his eyes from her face to try to alleviate her discomfort and his eyes fell on her hands. He sighed patiently and shook his head.

"Fia please," he said quietly, putting a hand on her wrist, stopping her movements "You must rest it."

"I need my hands," she said to him stubbornly.

"If you do not let the healing take place it may never fully recover."

She closed her eyes in annoyance but let the sword drop. Aragorn took her arm and began to undress the wound. It was still ghastly to behold. He kept his face as passive as he could and began the usual routine of cleaning and tending it.

"It will scar," he said to her as he worked. He looked at her face for a reaction and was surprised to see a brazen smile on her face.

"I'm glad I will have some kind of souvenir to remember my first battle with the wargs."

Aragorn shook his head but did not answer. The oppressive silence that had dwelt between the three before Aragorn had joined them fell heavily onto them again. Once he had finished his task he stood to leave, informing them that the fellowship and Serafina would be dining with the Lord and Lady of the wood that evening. He walked away leaving two of their faces in dread and the other in mingled hope and fear.

#

Serafina sat among the few still seated. Most of the Elves were dancing, Legolas could be seen among them, dancing with one beauty then another. Aragorn spoke with the elf Haldir across the landing. Occasionally he would look back at her, but she tried to ignore him. Only Boromir, Gimli, Sam and Frodo remained sitting with her, but there was no conversation to be had.

Eventually the dancers caught her attention, gracefully weaving about one another in a fluid dance as if controlled by one mind. She let her thoughts drift as she watched their graceful movements. She had not enjoyed the meal. Being spoken to rarely and ignored by many did not constitute an enjoyable evening for the thief, but she had not expected much else from the elves. She had watched Gimli with surprise as he had gazed in admiration at the Lady Galadriel while they dined. Aragorn had been seated on the opposite side of the table to Serafina along with Frodo and Legolas. The other hobbits sat between them and herself, Gimli and Boromir. She had found no conversation in the dwarf that evening, preoccupied as he was with starring at the beautiful elf Lady. Her only consolation through the evening was that Boromir was clearly enjoying himself as little as she. She frowned as she watched Legolas smile at his radiant partner as they danced.

The ground swayed. Serafina tried to grab at the seat beneath her without drawing attention to herself. She found being in the treetops incredibly disagreeable, and though the landing was built to resemble a room, the dark abyss beyond the floor kept her on edge. She was sure she was the only one who even noticed that the ground moved in the breeze.

She spotted Aragorn moving towards her and she offered him a shaky half smile. He walked directly to where she was sitting and leant down to speak to her quietly.

"Dance with me," he said his face as grim as ever, grey eyes guarded.

Serafina could not help raising her eyebrows in surprise. "Aragorn, you cannot be serious. We are in a treetop full of _elves_. I could not possibly…" she trailed off at the trace of hurt in his eyes.

"Dance with me," he repeated, his voice almost pleading.

Serafina could not find words to answer and he led her into the throng of elves. "I do not know any of the dances of elves," she said, trying to hide the note of panic in her voice.

He smiled at her and pulled her into a stance that was familiar to her, his right hand on her waist, his left hand holding her right hand gently as to not injure her wrist. She let her left hand rest on his shoulder and looked at him quizzically. He took a step closer to her and said in an almost whisper, "You will know this dance. Trust me."

Serafina tried to take a steadying breath - there was nothing comforting in this situation. But her deep breath only sent her head into a more dizzying spin as his scent filled her senses. She noted then that it was like the smell of rich earth and leather but slightly different, mixed with the familiar smell of the herb he used on her wrist and some unknown spice. She closed her eyes to regain her self-control and Aragorn pressed her hip lightly to signal they were moving. He took three steps towards her and then pulled her back towards him. She opened her eyes and smiled at him in instant recognition. She had danced this dance in simpler times in Bree; when the hours grew small in the night and when the beer had reached those in the Inns who could play music. Those occasions had not been many in number but they held a special place in her heart. There were not many women who stayed late at Inns drinking ale and laughing the hours away, and Serafina had been sought after along with the barmaids to dance by many a gentleman and low-life alike. On those nights she had smiled and laughed with the rest of them, forgetting her situation in life as the others forgot their own and enjoying the moment for what it was.

Her inhibitions melted away as she moved with Aragorn around the floor. The music was very different to what she was used to dancing this to but it fitted nonetheless. She found herself smiling as they danced together, forgetting herself and enjoying the feeling of his hand moving sometimes to her waist sometimes to her hips. She saw Aragorn smiling too, but tried to keep her eyes away from his, not sure as she was that she wanted to see what might be in his eyes.

Aragorn pulled her in tighter as the music wound to a close, slowing their movement with the music. She looked up at him as the dance ended, and he bowed his head down towards her own, his smile fading. A look of acute pain flashed across his face before a stoney expression replaced it and he closed his eyes. Serafina's eyes widened, she was not used to giving comfort and she suddenly felt awkward in his arms, but she did not move. She thought of the pain he must be feeling; how deep his friendship had run with Gandalf, she did not know. She thought of the grumpy old Wizard and a sad smile appeared on her face. With great effort she forced out the only words she thought were true that might bring him some comfort.

"He would want you to smile," she said quietly. The words came out not as gently as she knew they should have, but overall she thought that her intention to comfort could not be misinterpreted.

Aragorn however did not smile at her in thanks, he opened his eyes and looked at her as if searching for an answer, finally he said in such a low whisper she nearly didn't hear, "And what of her?"

Serafina flinched away from him. Arwen. He closed his eyes again and let his hands drop. Silently he took up her arm and led her unsmilingly back to where she had sat and left her. Almost instantly her eyes met a pair of keen, piercing, blue ones. Legolas did not frown but his eyes were harsh as he regarded her, searching her face for some knowledge of what had just passed between them. She looked away to catch others from the Fellowship watching her, only to look away when she challenged them with her gaze.

Eventually Serafina stood and made her way to the archway that led to the winding staircase, which would take her back to solid ground. She told herself that the unsettled feeling in her stomach was simply the product of a night with elves in a treetop, and had nothing to do with the Ranger whose troubled grey eyes swam across her vision.

She gritted her teeth, she would be glad when she was rid of this place.


	29. Chapter 29

Enjoy! And review!

#

Chapter Twenty-nine

Serafina's breath came in ragged gasps as she struggled to remain standing, fighting off Boromir's advances with her short sword. She had been practicing with the two men every morning for the past week, and her progress was slow. Boromir had been reluctant to help Serafina but Aragorn had convinced him it was necessary. Now he looked forward to the long hours of the morning spent in instruction and practice. Part of Serafina thought this was because he enjoyed swinging a sword at her with all his strength, another part of her acknowledged that he, like her, chaffed at their stay in Lórien and having some form of occupation quieted his restlessness. He was a good teacher, though she usually left the clearing they used to practice hating them both deeply.

Her left arm was growing stronger, but not quick enough. She hoped that her right arm would be back to full use soon but she had not yet mentioned her hopes of using it to Aragorn. While she fought Boromir, Aragorn would usually sit by silently watching and give her feedback after Boromir decided he had killed her enough times for the morning, then they would swap and Boromir would stand by yelling instructions and corrections at her while she fought the Ranger.

This morning, however, Aragorn was not present. Boromir had said that he had some business with the Lady Galadriel and Lord Celeborn. She had been glad for the respite from his presence - since the evening when they'd danced together she had avoided him as well as she could. Seeing him only in the mornings for practice and occasionally in the evenings when her wrist needed his attention. Her mind lingered on that night and her concentration on the task at hand wavered. She gritted her teeth as the feeling of his hand on her waist came to her unbidden. Her grip on her sword faltered.

Boromir saw the weakness instantly. She was against a tree in a moment with his sword at her neck. Hers lay useless on the forest floor where it had landed.

"You do not learn, do you?" Boromir challenged her, aggravation strong in his voice. He let her go and stepped back from her. "Go, fetch your sword, Thief. And this time do not let your mind wander or I might do the same and forget to not behead you!"

Serafina riled at his words, "If that is what you would prefer, why not do it now?"

Boromir laughed at her indignation, "That is a question I ask myself daily. Do not test my resolve to help Aragorn. Though, if he is successful in his meeting with the Elf Lady you and I may not be so forced into refraining from killing each other."

Serafina frowned at him. "What do you mean?" she asked darkly, picking up her sword.

"He is speaking with the Lady Galadriel, trying to get her to let you stay here. So that we can leave you behind. I thought we were taking you to Minas Tirith where you would finally answer for your crimes, but Aragorn may have other plans."

"You jest, surely." Serafina said in a low voice.

"No. Not at all," he answered clearly enjoying the idea of leaving her behind, regardless of his desire to bring her to justice. "Maybe it's time you started making friends here." He finished with a smile.

Serafina narrowed her eyes at the man and lifted her sword. "Again." She said through gritted teeth. Boromir mirrored her actions and began the attack. She fought him off with renewed vigour though they had already been sparring for longer than usual. When Serafina blocked a particularly vicious blow, Boromir let out a pleased cry.

"So you can learn?" He said his eyes twinkling beneath the hair that fell around his face. He did not let his pace slow as he swung his sword at her again, "I told Aragorn that you only needed encouragement."

Serafina pretended to ignore this comment but the idea that Aragorn discussed her with Boromir set her teeth on edge. The half smile on Boromir's face taunted her as they sparred, it grew in strength the angrier she became. Slowly an idea formed in her head - she realised the uniqueness of her situation and fought to keep the scowl on her face. She knew Boromir would only be fooled by his apparent dominance over her.

"Where will he lead you if not to Minas Tirith?" she asked with a bitter note in her voice, carefully measured to be punctuated by the clang of her sword as she blocked him with all of her strength.

Boromir sneered at her as he spun. She ducked his blow narrowly with her eyes wide. He spoke with force and the superiority of tone that he usually employed when addressing her, "Aragorn keeps his own counsel as close as any man. But there are limited paths and he must chose from one."

Serafina's mind whirled - she had no idea what to do with this information. She kept her face guarded and let her scowl turn into a frown, "And there is no other settlement of Men on any of those paths but Gondor?" She asked and seeing an opening she made her first advance on Boromir since much earlier in the morning.

He deflected it as easily as if he swatted a fly and laughed as he answered her. "Not unless you intend to start one in Emyn Muil."

"Emyn Muil?" Serafina cried, loosing all pretence. Her eyes widened as she regarded the man before her. Boromir stopped abruptly, his joking expression melted away. She saw that in that moment he discerned her ploy. Serafina felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand up. She raised her sword in front of her at the dangerous glint that appeared in Boromir's eyes.

He took a step towards her threateningly, his own sword raised. "You are crafty aren't you?" he said with a low voice, "But Serafina you're wiles will not fool me again. Your sly and devious trickery for your own gain of information will only serve you so far."

"The damage is done," she hissed at him, backing away from him slowly as he advanced on her. She was backed up against a tree and felt the need to go on the attack. "The Emyn Muil is bordered by Rohan and the Dead Marshes. If we are to go to no other realm of Man then that path would lead to the marshes. Which leads to Mordor. I am no fool."

Boromir's face was like stone. He stood over her proud and strong, so sure of himself that Serafina was left utterly dumbfounded when his countenance broke. Boromir turned away from her with his head bowed, and his face contorted into frustrated torment. When he spoke his voice was filled with such passion and anger that Serafina wanted to run, but her pride kept her still. The most peculiar point being that she was not the object of this outrage.

"If you are no fool Serafina, then stay here if they will have you. For we march knowingly into folly."

Serafina took pains to keep her voice strong and steady, "What business do you have in such a place with such an object?"

"None that will succeed - that much is all but certain! We are marching to our deaths and with barely a hope of destroying it, let alone of returning."

Serafina's eyes widened, she had not thought they sought to destroy the ring. An involuntary shiver crept down her spine. He paced before her like a caged animal. She watched his powerful frame and saw for a moment Boromir through the eyes of another; strong, lordly and proud. His agitation touched her but Serafina could do nothing but stare at him. She caught a glimpse of a battle raging within him and how strongly this place distressed him. Abruptly he stopped and turned to her.

He regarded for a moment. "Look at you," he said gesturing to her as if there was a throng of onlookers he played to, "standing there with your head held high and your shoulders thrown back like a Queen - yet your eyes expose you. In your eyes I see the Thief. In them I see everything that you are, and I tell you this; for all that you are Serafina, you have no place in Mordor. You will find more mercy from my father and from your Olin than in the journey to Mordor. This is why Aragorn goes to the Elf-Witch."

He resumed his pacing, but it looked more like aimless wandering. Serafina took a breath and swallowed. She had not guessed that her impromptu plan to get information out of the Son of the Steward would be so successful, nor that the information itself would be so distressing to her. Frodo's face came to her mind and her heart sank slightly. She knew then that he held little hope for life after the quest. Her feelings towards the hobbit tendered slightly. Tentatively Serafina spoke, "And there is no other course of action to be taken, no other options?"

He turned back to look at her. "Other options? Are there no other options?" he exclaimed in disbelief, a manic glint appeared in his eyes and Serafina felt her insides contract in fear for what he might say. "Our options could have been many, they still might but -"

"Boromir!" Serafina and Boromir both turned see their interrupter. Aragorn was striding towards them, his face intent on the other man, "you forget yourself."

Boromir looked between Aragorn and Serafina, his face troubled. Without a word he turned from them, sheathing his sword and shaking his head as he went. Within moments he was out of sight, lost between the trees.

Slowly Serafina's mind came back to herself and she noticed she was still standing against the tree, her sword half raised where her arm had sunk unconsciously as they spoke. She sheathed it, and looked up at her companion. For a long time he simply held her gaze. She looked at him with apprehension, but her shock overcame her self consciousness.

"Walk with me." He said and began in the opposite direction to where Boromir had disappeared.

Serafina followed numbly.

For a while they walked in silence. Serafina tried to use the time to collect her thoughts and her countenance but neither could be recovered. Her mind flittered through the faces of the fellowship and Boromir's pessimistic prediction of the end of them all weighed heavily on her mind. She sighed silently and let her guard down, her physical and verbal sparring with the Son of the Steward left her feeling exhausted, she dreaded a similar discussion with the Ranger.

"Is there really such little hope?" she asked him quietly.

Aragorn turned to look at her and she did not bother to hide the anxiety in her gaze. She watched his grey eyes turn tender. His answer was equally soft, "I do not think there has ever been much hope, but that does not mean to say that the hope that there is is not strong, nor well founded."

She attempted a smile but gave up half way through, not feeling the need for the unfelt expression. They walked slowly, side by side, each with much to say and no words to say it with. Serafina eventually let her mind wander, her previous affront at Aragorn's decision to confront the Lady Galadriel seemed insignificant by comparison to the task that rested on the shoulders of the fellowship, but her skin prickled at the thought nonetheless.

"I will not stay here," she said, daring him to contradict her.

He answered with a resigned patience, "If the elves accept my request for your sanctuary after we depart, then I expect you will not be able to leave without their permission, if not, there is little else I can do to protect you."

"I do not ask for your protection," Serafina said wearily, as though they had had this discussion on numerous occasions.

"And yet I give it freely," he said with the same tone.

Serafina ignored this comment and opened her mouth to continue arguing her case but he stopped her and spun her around to face him. She looked up at him, startled by the sudden movement and the urgency in his eyes.

"Did Boromir tell you all of it?" he asked insistently. Serafina nodded and lowered her eyes. She stared at his chest directly in front of her and tried to block out the familiar scent washing over her and the embarrassing blush that threatened to steal its way onto her face. He sighed and cupped her chin so that she was looking at him. "Then you understand that from here our quest becomes even more perilous. At the moment I have not decided on a path, but I think it unlikely we will pass through even the smallest village."

Serafina swallowed and a feeling of helplessness settled over her. She thought it must have shown in her face because Aragorn's eyes took on a sadder look. She squared her shoulders but her voice was soft as she said, "Is there nothing I can do to help?" At her words Aragorn dropped his hand from her chin and took a step back. Serafina continued regardless, "I am not much of a fighter and I know that Frodo doesn't care for my company - a feeling which is mutual I assure you. But I -"

She broke off at the expression on his face. He was smiling in spite of himself. Serafina recognised the smile instantly. It was the same self satisfied one he had worn on the mountain side when he'd learnt that she had been provoking Boromir to distract him from the Ring. She frowned at him, but this time he did not let the smile wash off his face, instead it grew until he was grinning at her. She nearly smiled sheepishly with him but she caught the smile before it reached her face. Instead she raised her eyebrows silently demanding an explanation for his joviality. Eventually he mastered the smile, but it's ghost lingered in his eyes. Serafina was surprised at how sorely she wanted to somehow bring it back now that it was gone, but she pushed those feelings down as quickly as they came and waited motionless for his account.

"Serafina, you are brave and strong beyond your years. Such characteristics are not uncommon in someone so proud and wilful - look at Boromir, he has similar qualities. But," here he paused and smiled again, it was not the uncharacteristic self satisfied smile from before, but a tender, genuine smile that spoke of unexpected happiness. "Once, I believed there was more to your character than pride and stubbornness. For a period I questioned it, but I am pleased to find myself proved right," he spoke gently and his hand reached out to tuck a lose strand of hair behind her ear.

Serafina's face coloured, but not just from his touch. "Aragorn, I," she began, moving her face away from his caress. Guilt plagued her and she knew she needed to apologise. She battled to find the words though she kept her chin lifted high. She knew that such an arrogant stance would likely undo the good intensions of her meek words but she could not humble herself completely, "I should not have said what I did about Arwen that day. You have only shown me friendship and I -"

"Fia," he said, cutting her off and taking a step towards her, "What did you say that was not true?" his voice was laced with the same pain she'd seen on his face that day on the Pass of Caradhras. He looked at her intently, "I forgave you before the day was through," he said gravely, "let us put that behind us now."

Serafina nodded in answer, incapable of speech. She was exhausted from the days physical and emotion strain, and but she found energy to keep her back straight and gave Aragorn a tentative smile. He returned it and offered her his arm. She took it warily, resting her injured wrist on top of his arm and he held it gently in place with his other hand.

They began to walk silently through the forest in this manner. Serafina took comfort in the quietness, letting her mind adjust slowly to the information she had received today. She tried hard not to dwell on his easy forgiveness of her rude words, and instead attempted to find a way to escape a sentence of an unknown length of staying with the elves.

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Time continued to pass in this fashion. Serafina felt very much like she was in complete limbo but to her intense displeasure she realised that she did not wholly despise the time spent in Lórien. She watched Frodo's spirit lighten as he relaxed into the easy life of waiting and as he relaxed so did his friends with the exception perhaps of Sam. Merry and Pippin's usual liveliness returned to them. They spent their days exploring the elven city and their nights entertaining there friends with tales from the exploits of the day. They all saw little of Legolas, when he was not with his own kind he was walking the forest with Gimli. Serafina was extraordinarily irked by their curious friendship. She had long considered Gimli an ally in a company of strangers, for his impartiality and his easy company. To see him becoming friends with one of her least favourite people was particularly irritating. She enjoyed the times when Gimli joined her and the two men for practice in the mornings, it happened rarely but to Serafina it was a welcome addition to the trio and her jealous side preferred him to be spending time with them rather than with the elf. Aragorn had insisted on her continuing with learning sword-craft in the mornings. He still had no answer from Lady Galadriel and until such a time he was determined that she should learn regardless. He could not say where her path might lead her.

Boromir was perhaps the one member of the fellowship whose state of mind did not improve with the passage of time. He began to draw more into himself, even forgetting to be rude to Serafina on occasion when the opportunity presented itself, though at other times coming close to threatening her with violence for the smallest matter. She knew Aragorn saw his unsteadiness as clearly as she, and she was grateful for his friendship with the man - she did not think she could bring herself to comfort him even if she wanted to. Fortunately Aragorn seemed to value Boromir's friendship and company and was able to smooth out the difference that past between them.

It was a pleasant evening, the air was still cool but this night was warmer than it had been. Presently she sat next to Aragorn as he inspected her wrist. Over the past few days he had instructed her to leave it unbound - the skin, no longer broken or festering was a shiny raw red colour. Aragorn smiled as he saw her body stiffen when he spread a soft balm over her tender skin.

"Either I am getting to know you better or you are getting worse at pretending to feel no pain," he said to her in a quite voice meant only for her. The edge of his mouth turned up and he looked up at her from the corner of his eyes as he worked.

"I don't know what you mean," she said innocently but her mouth twitched into a pert smile.

She was rewarded with a smile of his own before he spoke seriously. "The pain should lessen over the next few days - but you need to be careful to not irritate it with any harsh material. Keep your sleeve pushed up if you can."

He placed her wrist gently in her lap and stood, touching her briefly on the shoulder as he went. He walked over to Legolas who had joined them from wherever he had been with the elves. The hobbits sat talking animatedly with Gimli close by. Serafina stood to join them. Before she was able to sit down Boromir appeared from the trees, looking slightly disheveled, but his eyes were decided.

"Serafina," he called to her and strode towards her purposefully, "Will you join me for a walk?"

She started at his request and glanced around quickly. Her senses screamed out to her to make some excuse, but there was none to be made. The rest of the fellowship still sat deeply absorbed in their own conversations, not noticing the appearance of the man. She tried to catch Aragorn's eye, at least to warn him where she was going. Part of her hoped he would see her and insist that she remained where she was. But he did not look. Angrily she berated herself for thinking she could rely on another, even if it was Aragorn. She was still armed, even if it was just a dagger if it came to it.

Gathering her wits she nodded to Boromir. He turned promptly and disappeared. She followed him without flinching into the darkness.


	30. Chapter 30

A/N: Well we're here - Chapter Thirty… wow! What a milestone :) You think things have been interesting? - well we're just getting started my friends. So yeah… a little bit of a cliff-hanger last update :P I promise not to make too much of a habit of it ;)

Thank you reviewers!

Disclaimer: Anything that appears in LOTR is not mine. Any story line or character not in LOTR IS mine…

Enjoy! Review!

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Chapter Thirty

Serafina walked next to the man through the darkness. Every inch of her was on edge, anticipating an attack. It seemed as though he was only waiting until they were far enough away from the others to speak without being overheard by the elf, but he did not look as though he could contain whatever it was inside of him for very long.

To Serafina he seemed overly agitated, as though something had been brewing inside of him for days now. Presently he passed a hand over his face and turned his head to regard her as they walked.

"Do you remember, in the mines, when you spat all over the dwarf?" his voice was surprisingly light, but Serafina heard an undertone of darkness in it, "You do not know how many nights I have lain awake wondering what you know."

"What I know?" she repeated.

But he continued as if she had not spoken, "Gandalf never mentioned any curiosity simply because it was curious. It is my belief that he wanted me to tell you all that I know - if I could but ask him what he thinks it means!" he broke off in frustration and took a breath to calm himself, "I do not think we will linger in this place much longer, and I must tell you now or I may never be free of the ghost."

Serafina watched him as he spoke, unable to make sense of what he said. His face fell mostly in shadow as they walked, but she could make enough out of his expression to see a black look.

"Many years ago now, I am afraid to say how many, I met Arnudor - my father's advisor at the time - riding out of the city. I had never seen him so agitated. In his arms he held a bundle, he was sweating even though it was winter and the day was chilly. I offered to accompany him. At first he refused, he said he had unpleasant business, but when I persisted - I was worried that he was unwell, he relented and let me follow. It was not until we reached the river Anduin that I understood. The bundle in his arms was a child wrapped in blankets in a boat of reeds. A baby, barely even cleaned from birth. He said it was the child of a prisoner, and the little thing had not survived even a minute in this world. His face was still red and sweaty and I thought he must have been shaken by the ordeal. We have few women in our prisons fewer that had given birth there. I saw its face. I was repulsed by it, by its frailty, but it would have been a beautiful baby - a girl, he told me." Here he stopped to take a breath, but his pace never slowed. Serafina had trouble keeping up with his long strides and disjointed story but she didn't dare interrupt. She could not shake a cold feeling from winding its way up and down her spine.

"You don't know how much that face haunts me. At the time I had a terrible desire to hold it, but I ignored the urge out of cowardice. These nights I wonder if I had but held it, perhaps it wouldn't haunt me so…"

His voice trailed off and he stopped walking. After some moments of standing silent in the dark Serafina wondered if she should leave him. But before she worked up the nerve Boromir began again, "He told me that the mother had expressed wishes for her child not to be buried under the earth, nor burnt to ashes but set free so that its spirit might see the sea and the sky meet under the stars and be at peace with the world that had given it nothing. I thought it was the least we could do. He waded with the child as deep as he could then let it go. I watched helpless from the riverbank. I remember thinking how lucky it was that the current was strong and the thing would be born swiftly to sea." He paused, watching the scene in his memory. "I remember that the current was strong - the little bundle flew away from us so quickly, and there was no breeze to blow it upon the-" here he stopped and looked at her intently, "I know what visit it was that the wizard spoke of. He intercepted us on our way back to the city. Arnudor rode on ahead, I told Gandalf of our business by the river but I remember no trace of probing in his questions, I still believe them to have been then innocent in intent. My heart tells me that it was after that very visit when he found an empty reed boat in the bulrushes."

Serafina cleared her throat but her voice came out only in a whisper, "I don't understand."

"The child, Serafina!" he exclaimed in frustration, "Do you not remember Gandalf saying he found a small empty boat hidden in the bulrushes? Gandalf did not mention it as an oddity - I know it. And I believe it was the same boat as that that Arnudor set adrift on the river. But where was the child?"

"Surely the child could have been tipped out?" Serafina answered quickly. Her heart held a feeling of foreboding for what though she could not quite place. All she knew was that Boromir needed to be wrong about whatever it was he thought.

"Tipped out how? The thing was supposed to be dead; it could not have tipped the boat. But I guess perhaps the boat was tipped over and the child continued its journey under the water but I think it very unlikely. There are no creatures in the water that would disturb a floating boat carrying a dead baby. There was no breeze and the current was strong, the boat with or without a baby should have been carried to the sea. How, then, did it end up in the bulrushes?"

"How am I supposed to know?" She asked a defensive tone came into her voice.

"I have tried in vein to convince myself this is all unconnected but it will not do. Her voice is in my head, through the grief I know she can see the guilt I feel. How much torture I would have saved myself if I had asked Arnudor to hold the pitiful creature…" his voice trailed off again.

"What guilt?" she asked, stealing herself.

"Since Gandalf put the idea into my head I cannot seem to shake it. And now, after his death, it weighs heavier upon me and the Elf-witch encourages it - I feel it. That visit that Gandalf spoke of, that I have told you of tonight, it must be something like twenty years hence."

Coldness drenched her. She saw where he was heading with this idea and it could not be true. "That child was dead."

"The more I think about it, the more I am sure that there is no way possible for the boat to be found in the bulrushes, empty or not."

"But it was empty!" Serafina yelled at him, suddenly angry, "And none of this even matters because the child was dead!"

"How do you know the child was not dead?" he cried back at her, "Have you not been listening to what I've been saying? I never held it! I never was able to feel its cold, lifeless body. I have always regretted not holding the child. I dreamt of holding it for years until it faded out of memory. But lately I have remembered it. In every dream I take the child from Arnudor and instead of finding it cold and lifeless, the little think wakes and looks at me. It doesn't cry. It just watches me with its big eyes. Green eyes. Long have I tried to convince myself that the dream means nothing. But I cannot ignore it - I think the child was alive. And I think Arnudor knew it. How else can I explain his countenance? So anxious as he was to get rid of it!" He stopped abruptly and held her with a measuring look. His expression was indiscernible. "Are you certain that your Garth found you in the bulrushes?"

Serafina's eyes were wide, she shook her head, "How can I know? I was a baby! If you are implying that I am this child that is impossible!"

"How is it impossible? You have seen, what? Twenty - maybe twenty-two winters? No more surely. The time fits. Serafina, I have lost much sleep over this mystery and I am convinced I am right. You cannot detest the idea more than I, that I know."

"How is that?" she hissed.

"Because me not following my instinct to make sure the child was dead has made me responsible for what you became! If I'd just made that one action, life for you could have been so different."

"You still have not proven that I am that baby!"

"Does the name Arnudor mean nothing to you?" Boromir asked with his brows raised.

"I do not believe I have heard it before," she answered perplexed.

"I don't know if I should find this more appalling than surprising. Certainly you knew the name of the man you killed."

Serafina took an involuntary step backwards, away from him. Boromir ploughed on, his tone accusing. "For some reason the child, that is you, was to be killed. You, yourself, said that Garth told you your parents didn't want you and abandoned you to the river. And he said he found you in the bulrushes, Gandalf found an empty boat hidden amongst them around the time you would have been born. But as I have said, the boat would not have simply been washed up into the bulrushes - this can only mean that someone knew about the child, about you. Garth would have had to have been waiting for you to come floating downstream, so that he could wade in and catch you. Why would anyone do that, Serafina?"

But Serafina could not answer.

"What's more is that approximately ten years later, the same Garth instructs you to kill the same Arnudor - the very man who tried to dispose of you as a baby. On his own wishes or someone else's I do not know. I cannot believe this to be mere coincidence. There are mysteries yet to be solved about this. Something I am determined to do on my return to Minas Tirith. But tell me, what was your relationship with Garth? Do you think he could have been your father? That he saved you because you're his daughter? Perhaps your mother didn't want you, but Garth did?"

Serafina laughed, it was harsh and tight and sounded out of place in their conversation, "Garth grew to despise me. He never loved me - I don't know why he took me on. I can't believe he was my father."

Boromir looked at her thoughtfully, "There is a possibility that a pregnant woman from around twenty years ago is still remembered in the prisons. Perhaps questions could be asked as to why her baby was taken from her. She may yet still be there - I do not know her sentence. I cannot think why anyone would want to get rid of a child in such a manner."

"And you have no doubt that the child was me?" she asked in a small voice.

"Even now I feel the burden left by the death of the Wizard, and pressed on by the witch lifting off my chest. As if they have been waiting for me to tell this to you. It's important, I think - and though it may be shocking, I cannot tell what any of it means."

For countless minutes they stood together in silence. Serafina was trying desperately to find a way to contradict the man, but she found no success. She was not certain why it was so important for him to be wrong but she felt the urgency clearly. While she had known nothing of her parentage she'd never cared who they were - their existence was meaningless to Serafina; she was alive and Garth had raised her, for whatever reason. Now, though, she could not help but imagine a mother, her mother sitting childless in a prison cell. Was she happy to be childless? Was the child taken from her by force? Did she die there?

Countless questions ran through her mind, questions that she had never bothered with before. Was it possible that Garth didn't just find her by chance? Did he know her parents? How had he known where to find her?

"Serafina?" Boromir asked looking at her with both the normal disgust and something new, "Are you alright?"

Serafina scowled at him, and didn't bother to answer. He seemed to understand though and motioned for her to walk with him as the retraced their steps towards the fellowship.

When they finally reached their camp, emerging side by side from the trees, they saw the whole of the company seated together passing around flasks of clear Elvish wine. Aragorn seemed to be the only one who fully appreciated the strangeness of their simultaneous arrival and raised his eyebrows as he motioned to the log he was seated on for her to join him. She shook her head once and stole her way quickly to her bedroll, wanting desperately to avoid attention from the merry party. She was only three steps from her prize when something tugged on her skirt.

"Oh no you don't, Fia!" said Pippin as he looked up at her schemingly. She could hear jeers from Gimli and Merry, encouraging him in his endeavour. "We're not often all together like this, and tomorrow we're to dine with the elves, then as I reckon Aragorn will be leading us on away from here. Come on!" he said, and dragged her by the skirt towards the group. Her first reaction was to protest, but Pippin obvious excessive consumption of wine had left him lacking in terms of judging his actions. Serafina watched horrified as he walked away from her with a fistful of her skirt, with such a high split in it she only had a few seconds to follow him before the entire length of her legs were displayed to the whole fellowship. Yes, she was wearing thick tights, but they left little to the imagination and Serafina had no desire to be ogled at by her slightly intoxicated companions. She followed the Hobbit but did not sit down.

It certainly felt strange for the nine of them to be together at the same time, it had almost been as though they had each avoided it in a silent packed so they might not notice the missing member so sorely. But by this time the dwarf and the hobbits had drunken too much wine to notice the one who was missing. Serafina knew it would not escape the men or the elf. She snuck a glance to the three of them. Boromir, seeming eager to catch up to the hobbits and the dwarf was taking long swigs of wine and had taken the seat next to Aragorn where the latter had indicated to for her to sit. Legolas sat on Aragorn's other side, looking around the party. His expression looked happy but in his eyes she still saw grief. When she looked at Aragorn she looked away instantly. His grey eyes were piercing into her with his intense gaze. Serafina folded her arms and watched Merry. He was talking animatedly, about something clearly amusing by the reaction of his kinsman and the others, but his words washed over her unheard. She stood this way in silence, letting her mind wander back to where it had been unceremoniously wrenched from.

"Well?" Merry asked again.

Serafina started and realised that the hobbit was looking at her expectantly, proffering a book at her. She shook her head to clear the fantasy she had created about a falsely accused, mourning mother in a lonely prison cell and noticed she had kept eye contact with Merry the entire time she'd been daydreaming. He'd even stood up and walked over to her. She could feel the eyes of the company on her, but she took no notice of them. Merry smiled and pushed the book into her hands.

"Come on, Fia!" he said laughingly, "We all agreed, you're the best storyteller - you should read it. We had a hard time finding it in Common Tongue, I'm sure the elves have many books in Common, but the truth is they just have so many books that we barely knew where to look."

Serafina looked down at the book in her hands. It felt oddly heavy, but she knew this had nothing to do with its weight.

Aragorn watched her as she handled the book. He saw a redness creeping into her cheeks, at first he thought only how the look became her, then he noticed the anxious way she shifted her weight in her feet as though preparing for flight. He snapped his eyes back up to her face and at once understood the blush he had seen that night in Moria as Sam's words came back to him _'I'll wager she's read hundreds of nasty stories like that one and they're all stored up in her head, only for telling when she chooses'_. Presently the same voice rose in the night.

"Oh come on Serafina, it's just one stinking tale. Look, even I want to hear you tell it - surely that's got to count for something." Most of the fellowship chuckled at this comment and Merry grinned at Serafina in encouragement.

Aragorn watched transfixed as she desperately tried to keep the anxiety so present in her eyes out of her expression, unsure as he was if he should step in, and if his assumption was indeed correct. But Serafina simply tried to hand the book back to Merry and said with all of her usual confidence, "I don't want to read it."

Many of the companions grumbled their disappointment, but Merry asked clearly, "Why not?" looking offendedly at the offered book and refusing to take it.

"I don't like the story," she answered, but her façade was shaking. Aragorn stood from his place and walked over to Serafina and took the book out of her hands. She didn't look up at him in appreciation.

"If the lady doesn't want to read, Master Hobbit, then she shan't," he said gently.

"But how do you know you don't like the story if we never told you which one we wanted you to read?" asked Pippin, ignoring Aragorn's intervention. For the first time Aragorn saw a flash of panic on Serafina's face, followed by an angry blush, but Pippin ploughed on, "Didn't you read the title? It says 'A _collection_ of tales'!"

The tone of his voice suggested to Aragorn that Pippin as yet suspected nothing; his only intention was to guilt her into reading. Boromir however perceived more than this and said in a quiet voice that carried over the whole party, "No. She didn't read it. Because she can't."

"What do you mean she can't?" asked Merry.

"What? Can't read?" scoffed Pippin, chuckling at the joke.

But Boromir's face held a very different smile, it was a kind of disgusted sneer, but slightly changed from the normal jeer he wore when regarding her, "Of course she can't read. She was raised by a low-life, a crooked man who didn't even love her. Who would have -" he began to ask before Aragorn cut him off.

"That's enough." Aragorn said firmly. But Serafina it seemed was ready to fight. Her face was completely red and her eyes were burning with hurt and anger.

"No," she said to Aragorn, "he's right. Who would have taught me?" She said lifting her chin high in the air. Her nose turned up in an ugly sneer and she felt Aragorn grab her arm but she shook him off heedlessly. "Excuse me for not being born into privilege, wealth or royalty like the rest of you!" She felt shame of herself creeping up onto her. She had been unfamiliar to feeling like this before being among this group. "The world I come from has little time for luxuries and accomplishments as you might be accustomed to finding in your women. What use would I have for books with no home to put them in? I have never heard a story I could not remember and retell. And what use would I have to write? I have never needed to settle any business with anyone, which I could not do in person."

Serafina looked around the fellowship with a challenging eye. Pippin met her gaze with a frown, "I thought I saw you reading a map in Rivendell?"

She laughed at this, "A map is not exactly a novel," she said with an unpleasant curl of her lip, "You don't need to know letters to read a map. Anyone who knows the land at all can recognise this one means 'Gondor' and that one 'Rohan'. Maps are nothing but pictures" she spat. With a last sweeping glance at her companions she stalked away from them trying desperately to scrape along with her as much pride as she could muster from such humiliation.

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Practice with the men the following morning was a torturous affair. Boromir was still looking at her with a mixture of disgust, pity and guilt. And to her upmost chagrin he was even attempting to be mildly pleasant. It was as though his admitting his suspicion of her birth had made it completely real to him and he had therefore taken on all the guilt that he felt due to him for her life, including, apparently illiteracy. Aragorn, on the other hand, barely spoke. He was not by nature verbose, but Serafina had grown to expect instruction from him at the least. She had not anticipated this kind of treatment from him, especially not as he had tried to assist her in her distress last night, even if she had rebuked it. She had thought he would treat her as he ever had, but these men, it seemed, never behaved the way she predicted.

The daylight passed largely as it had throughout their time among the elves. Serafina had mostly given up hope of planning an escape. She figured she would have better luck when the fellowship was departed and there was no one around to expect her anywhere. What vexed her greatly was how the Lady had not yet granted Aragorn's request for her sanctuary. As far as she could tell he had received no answer from her, as if she was waiting until the last minute to make a decision.

Slowly the light faded, and the beautiful oranges and greens of the forest became a more uniform brown-grey in the darkness. She knew she should return to the company soon so that they could journey to dine with the Lord and Lady together. She had been walking the citadel in the silence of twilight, and took one more turn before she would retrace her steps to find the fellowship. Around the corner she found beautiful winding stairs leading down a lush valley and ran down it quickly.

Before her stood a thing of beauty and mystery such as she had never beheld. The secluded stairs had lead her into a miniature valley. Serafina saw a flowing stream of the purest water dance down the rocks in a bubbling cascade; it swelled in a natural basin before running down to the floor and winding its way out of site through the trees. In the middle of the small clearing stood a font, crafted in the fashion of the elves. She walked up to it cautiously, but it was empty. Letting her woes leave her she smiled as curiosity took hold and she glanced around her surroundings. Her eyes lit up as she found a pitcher sitting by the pooling water of the stream. Instinctively she filled the jug and filled the font to the brim, wary not to spill a drop - the very water seemed precious. Serafina waited, watching the water hoping something would happen.

Her own reflection stared back at her. She stared at it for some moments, expecting something, though she knew not what. Just as she was about to give up she noticed subtle changes in her appearance; her eyes were no longer bright green, but deep like the forest. Her hair was softer and fell about her face in plentiful healthy bouncing waves. Serafina frowned at the image and to her surprise the strange version of herself smiled back, though somehow the smile still held an alluring pout. The vision melted away and she saw Boromir as he had walked with her only the night before. The scene changed and they were dancing together, he seemed marginally more content than she had seen him in weeks. His face shifted and became Aragorn's. He reached out his hand to caress her cheek. Suddenly it changed again and a flash of a naked shoulder pressed against her own in a fit of passion filled the water - the heat from the vision filled her body and firelight played on the bare neck and shoulders of the man. A face swam into view and all too familiar grey eyes darkened with desire pierced hers though the water. She could not look away. The scene melted into cold daylight. A bitter, proud face attached to broad and strong but ageing shoulders was yelling soundlessly at her; his expression all rage and fear. Although she could not hear him the words coming from his mouth were clearer to her than the call of birds at dawn. Foreboding settled on her heart and she wanted to tear her eyes away but before she could the scene shifted again and she was in a rugged landscape, around her she saw the carcasses of wargs and horses and the bodies of orcs and men. Legolas looked at her with sadness and pity. He spoke words that, again, she could not hear but that her heart felt with painful clarity. His face was beautiful in its wretchedness, it was clear he was hurting. The focus moved to his hand and it opened to reveal a ring of two serpents with eyes like emeralds clutched within it.

Serafina flung herself back from the thing and landed in a heap against a cold stone. She steadied herself - it was just a vision, surely it was not the future. She thought back to the image of Boromir walking with her, that certainly was past, and she could have sworn Aragorn had caressed her face exactly so once before. So how could the rest of it be the future, unless it showed both past and future? Or maybe, she thought with feeble hope, it showed futures that were lost. An involuntary pang of regret washed over her as she realised this would mean the loss of that other future, where the firelight danced on - "No!" she cried aloud. She would not entertain ideas of the impossible. But the look on Legolas' face danced before her eyes and she fought despair desperately.

Suddenly the night did not seem so friendly, nor the setting so beautiful. With a new weight on her heart she ran from the place, but she could not run so fast as to leave the horrible visions behind.


	31. Chapter 31

A/N: Fun. Fun. :D Please review! It helps give me an idea of what I'm doing well (so I can repeat it) and what wasn't so great (so I can work on it) and it also gives me motivation to find more time to write (a sure-fire way for you to ensure quick updates!)!

Enjoy!

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Chapter Thirty-one

Dinner was a very fine affair. Serafina sat, picking at her meal at her usual place, at the furthest end of the table to Aragorn, Frodo, Legolas, Galadriel and Celeborn. Gimli and Boromir sat closest to her. They had been talking in their easy banter since arriving. What scared Serafina was how Legolas had been watching her since she returned to the company, and on their way through the treetops. As far as she could tell, he was simply trying to determine what was ailing her. She was glad to give him no success. She though perhaps it was her short breathing that gave away her distress. But fortunately the other members of the fellowship's hearing was not so acute and she was left to dwell on the visions in relative peace.

She was quite conscious of the man and dwarf's attention to her wine glass. Every few minutes one of them would look at it, and motion to the other to fill it up, even if only one sip had been taken from it. Slowly she turned over the scenes she'd seen in her mind.

The woman she didn't know what to make of. If it was indeed a warped version of herself Serafina was left perplexed. What could account for a change in eye colour? Or a darkening of her hair? Or indeed that expression, which Serafina was sure had never graced her features.

Shaking her head she moved onto the next scene, where she had walked with Boromir only the night before. Surely this was simply the past. Perhaps the thing had shown it to her because the things Boromir had told her that night weighed heavily on her. The next image was of the same man dancing with her. She nearly choked on her wine as she scoffed at the likelihood of that happening.

But the next set of images sobered her completely. No matter how many times she thought about it she could have sworn Aragorn had caressed her cheek so at least once before, and even if that vision was the future, she could hardly see how it would tell her anything. She scowled at her dinner. Before she was able to develop too many angry thoughts towards the Ranger her mind raced eagerly onto the next scene. Heat raced to her cheeks and she felt her body respond unbidden to the scene that played out in her mind. Stubbornly she forced the intimate scene to the side and let the next, which contrasted it starkly fill her eyes.

She knew the man's face, he wore the same outraged anger and fear that he had twelve years ago when she'd killed his advisor. He had, however not aged well and the weight of his position seemed to weigh on Denethor almost like the ring weighed on his son. She was suddenly immensely grateful to Aragorn for seeming to have decided not to journey to Minas Tirith. She knew she needed to avoid the city at all costs. But how then could she solve the mystery of her mother?

With a great sense of duty she dredged the last vision she'd seen to the forefront of her mind. She cringed inwardly at the look of pain on the elf's face. Involuntarily she looked to Legolas to compare his expression now to the one in her mind. He was currently smiling and laughing with careless frivolity. But the Legolas in her head mouthed the words that she heard without using her ears 'He's dead'. Serafina blanched where she sat and the ring Aragorn wore appeared in the elf's hand in her mind's eye.

"Do you fear the future?" a beautiful female voice spoke clearly and the words rang in her head.

Serafina looked around wildly for the one who spoke. But no female was sitting near enough to speak to her.

"The future is yet unwritten, we see only glimpses of what may pass. Fearing it will not help you," she said again. The voice spoke with a semi-familiar careful purpose that Serafina recognised as the Lady Galadriel's. Her head whipped to face the head of the table only to find the beautiful Elf Witch deep in conversation with those surrounding her. She was about to look away and accuse Gimli and Boromir of refilling her glass one too many times but the Lady's startling blue eyes snapped in her direction and smiled at her with a knowing look. Serafina's eyes widened slightly and she looked down at her plate. Suddenly what Boromir had said about hearing her voice inside his head made sense. She kept her eyes on her plate and focused on forming her own sentence in her mind as clearly as possible.

"Is that what I saw? The future?" she thought in her own mind, feeling foolish. Hastily she grabbed the wine before her and drained it. In the corner of her eye she saw Gimli motion to Boromir, who reached across the table happily to refill the now empty glass. Her focus however remained internal as she waited with baited breath to see if the elf witch would reply.

"Partly," came the cryptic reply.

"I want no part of that future," Serafina thought hotly in her head.

"Surely it did not all of it displease you?" she asked. Serafina could hear a knowing smile behind the voice. Serafina blushed at the implication and wondered just how far into her mind the Elf Witch could see. Hardening her resolve she repeated herself;

"I want to part of it."

"You cannot be surprised that the Mirror would show you things that don't please you when you look into it uninvited," said the voice. There was a hint of warning in its tone and Serafina swallowed but squared her shoulders, she was sure that if Galadriel had not wanted her to look into the Mirror she would have seen nothing.

"And what will you do with me now?" Serafina asked boldly.

"I will simply set you on your path," came the amused answer. Serafina frowned.

"What does that mean?" She demanded. But Galadriel made her no answer. She repeated the question over and over in her mind but she heard no voice in her head. She turned again to look at the Elf but Galadriel did not turn an eye towards her.

Scowling Serafina turned back to her meal.

"Aren't you going to eat Lassie?" slurred Gimli.

Serafina looked at the food before her and decidedly pushed the scenes from the Mirror out of her mind. She took another long swig of the cool crisp wine and looked up at Boromir and Gimli. They smiled at her and raised their glasses to her, glad she had finally joined them. Serafina ate and drank with gusto.

Slowly Serafina began to relax, with the help of the wine and paid her two companions her full attention. They were recanting war stories to each other with much enthusiasm and laughter, soon she found herself laughing with them. The conversation then moved to women and Serafina found herself blushing as they bested each others stories of love in unlikely situation.

Having finished an amusing story about a minx of a barmaid in Dol Amroth, Boromir turned to Serafina and said, "Come Serafina, tell us a story of your escapades in love!" his eyes twinkled at her good naturedly.

Serafina, emboldened by the wine, smiled brazenly at the man and the dwarf and said, "I have a story. It is not about love at least not on my part - but it does include the first naked man I ever saw."

Boromir spat his wine and chortled, then said "And how many naked men have you seen young lady?"

"Four," she said saucily.

Gimli laughed loudly and said, "Well out with it then lass!"

"It was not three years hence. There was a man in Bree by the name Sylnor. I knew he was interested in me - I could see it in the way his eyes lingered. He was wealthy, as wealthy as they come in Bree at any rate. But I could not stand the sight of him. A fully grown man he stood only a head taller than me, and he was of a weedy build - the kind that makes me look sturdy," Boromir scoffed at her words a smile playing on his face, "and his voice had the quality and tone of a ten year old!"

"A true man of Bree!" exclaimed Gimli with a smile in his eyes.

"Yes, you get the picture. Despite all this when Sylnor had work for me I rarely refused it - he paid well." Serafina paused and took a swig of her wine, which Boromir dutifully refilled once she'd set it down. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Aragorn glancing in her direction and she let a smile play on the corner of her mouth. When she spoke she did not increase the volume of her words but pitched her voice so that it would carry to Aragorn if he was indeed listening like she suspected.

"One day he told me I should meet with someone at the Prancing Pony, an Inn in Bree. At first I was apprehensive, but the man went on and on about how this person could turn my life around, and even if I declined the offer he was sure there'd be a family jewel I could get my hands on. He gave me the date and time and I was set on meeting this person.

"The day came and I went to the Inn and asked the keeper, a fat but good enough man by the man of Butterbur, about the appointment. I will never forget the look he gave me, but nevertheless he walked me to a room and scuffled away as quickly as possible. Nothing could have prepared me for what I saw when I opened that door. Sylnor was lying on a chaise lounge facing the door stark naked! And the worst thing about it was that I froze! I could not move. I don't know how long I stood there in the doorway staring at him in utter shock. He had," she paused here blushing scarlet, "arranged himself so that I could see everything - I don't know if I have ever been so horrified."

Boromir and Gimli were both laughing heartily but Serafina was not finished. "Before I was able to pull my countenance together he began to speak. He professed his undying love for me, and said he had always call me the Beauty of Bree – a flattery of mammoth proportions I assure you - and he was set on making me his Beauty of Bree. You can imagine my revulsion. Then to my terror he stood and began to walk towards me, completely naked with his hands outstretched. In his hands I saw ring. Finally my sense came back to me and scrambled out and shut the door. But not even the closed door could dissuade him. I felt him fumble at it behind me and I ran as quickly as I could, but it was no use. He followed me. I collided with poor Butterbur on the stairs and went around him quickly but poor Sylnor in his haste made the same mistake and collided with the man still naked as a babe. In Butterbur's shock he recoiled away from him and fell into me. I could not support the weight of fat Butterbur and I tumbled down the steps with Butterbur on top of me. The worst of it is that Butterbur must have grabbed Sylnor as he was falling and the three of us landed in a heap at the bottom of the stairs for the full common room to see."

Boromir roared his laughed and Gimli cackled as he gripped his sides. Serafina smiled sheepishly, her blush a permanent feature of her face, though she did not feel shy. With a saucy smile on her face she let her eyes flit to Aragorn. He was looking down at his lap, a wide grin on his face, obviously trying to master himself to match the more somber conversations around him. Serafina let her own smile grow into a broad grin and her gaze moved back to the man and dwarf in front of her.

"Whatever happened to him?" Asked Boromir between gasps, wiping tears of mirth from his eyes.

"He is still around. At least he was when I left. He avoided me quite successfully from then on, Butterbur too. Poor Butterbur banned him from his Inn though, and he has never looked at me the same again. As if he was suspicious that there may be naked men following in my wake whenever I entered his Inn."

Serafina felt good to be laughing. She took another gulp of the wine and sat back in her chair contentedly, the days and the day before's burdens momentarily forgotten.

Presently Boromir looked at her. "Come, Fia!" he said heartily, "Dance with me. I have not danced these past months, and tonight may be my last opportunity for a time."

Serafina felt no apprehension as he offered her his hand. The goodwill that had begun to stretch itself between them was fortified with alcohol. Serafina smiled and took his hand as he led her into the growing number of dancing elves.

Aragorn watched her dancing with Boromir. They conversed easily together as they danced about the room. The constant refilling of her wine glass had not escaped him but he was glad she was at least smiling. He smiled to himself again as her story replayed itself in his mind, he could just picture her picking herself up from underneath Butterbur and the naked man trying desperately to hold her head high as she stalked out of the watching common room.

Slowly the music changed and grew slower, and Aragorn watched as the conversation between the two slowed then ceased. His interest in the pair heightened and he felt an unbidden pang of jealousy as he caught a glimpse of Boromir's hand on her waist.

Soon the dancers parted enough for him to see her face. Despair was etched into it as she stared wide-eyed about the room. It broke his heart seeing the sadness there. Before he knew what he was doing he found himself half way to the couple. When he reached them he placed a hand on Boromir's shoulder. The man looked at him in relief and bewilderment at the woman in his arms and he passed Serafina gladly to Aragorn. Serafina looked up at him questioningly. His brow contracted at the expression on her face, but she let him take her in his arms and lead her about the room. Aragorn never took his eyes off her. She had taken to wearing her hair tied up in a high knot, he could not help noticing the way it accentuated her high cheek bones and slender neck. He tried to catch her eye to find a hint at what had caused such a change in her mood but she was staring blankly into space.

She would not look at him, and she did not smile. After a time she leant her head onto his chest like she had done in Moria. He frowned at the memory even though something stirred within him at the feeling. Last time she hid her face from him thus she'd been trying to hide something from him. He suddenly resolved to find out what was going on between her and the Son of the Steward.

Suddenly Serafina's head snapped up, she looked at him intently for a moment, in her eyes he saw the ghost of an apology or of regret and she tore herself from his arms and strode with her back rigidly straight to the balcony.

Aragorn followed her out but she did not turn to look at him. She seemed completely lost in herself.

Serafina breathed deep calming breaths. How could she have forgotten? She had truly had too much wine. Boromir's innocent offer of a dance had not tweaked the slightest memory of the vision. It was not until she'd seen him looking so content as she danced with him that she remembered her fateful look into the Mirror.

And then she had let Aragorn dance with her! She had not yet decided what she was to do about the visions concerning Aragorn but instinct was telling her to back away, not to allow him to sweep her around the dance floor.

She felt Aragorn moving towards her and steadied herself to rebuke him, but another figure walked onto the balcony.

Serafina turned to see the Lady Galadriel walking slowly and gracefully towards Aragorn. Her mind went blissfully blank as she watched them and she listened attentively when they spoke.

"I have made my decision, Aragorn. I cannot grant you your wish." Galadriel spoke with such purpose and authority that Serafina was surprised when Aragorn answered.

"My Lady, please reconsider. For Serafina's sake." His voice was earnest and desperate.

"I have considered long. Her path does not lie here. She is to leave with you the morning after tomorrow."

"But that is impossible. Please, is there nothing I can do?" he asked.

Galadriel smiled and began speaking to Aragorn in Elvish. Serafina shifted her weight anxiously. She had no desire to travel with them, especially after seeing the predictions of Galadriel's Mirror and knowing where they were headed.

"But the path is too dangerous!" Aragorn replied, frustration clear in his voice.

"Danger, I fear is a certainty. But do not jump to conclusions about where a path may lead. There is much yet to pass before the end." Galadriel looked once between them, her cryptic smile alight in her eyes and she glided back towards the party.

Aragorn turned to her and held her in his intense gaze for a moment before closing the distance between them and saying in a fierce whisper;

"You will not come to Mordor."

"Believe me Aragorn, I have no intention of following you so far as Mordor," she answered easily. Her mind felt numbed by the wine, and she acknowledged that this might be a good thing.

He sighed and said with regret, "Yet you are to leave with us."

"Apparently so." Serafina answered bitterly.

"How I would prefer it if you could stay here until this darkness is passed."

"That is your way isn't it? Send the women away to safety while you save the world from evil," her words were harsh but her voice was gentle. Serafina smiled at him, for his face did not change. He remained grim and serious even as she poked fun at him. She let the tenor of her voice match the somber look of his face, "You have to know that I would not have stayed here if you, and they, had ordered me to with all pomp and honour possible."

"And that is how you see me? Pompous?"

"Of course not!" She said outraged that he could think that of her, "I was referring to the others as pompous. No one could see you as anything but honourable!" she cried in her defence. But Aragorn's face had split into a grin. He chuckled at her quietly. Serafina blushed scarlet again and scowled at him, he had been teasing her.

Aragorn, having the humility that she lacked, continued to answer her without another teasing look, "I know you would not have stayed, but I could hope that you would have at least been slowed down by the watchfulness of the elves. These are dangerous times. You should not be wandering the wilderness alone."

"And yet that is where your Elf Lady sends me," she scoffed at him.

"She sends you with us," he countered.

"I will not follow you the whole way! I daresay you would forbid it anyway."

"I would" Aragorn agreed, lifting a finger to her chin.

"Then what other explanation is there?" she asked moving her head away from his hand, letting the frustration and annoyance she felt at things he knew nothing of come into her voice, "Other than that I will have to make my own way away from the fellowship at some point, and continue alone!" she said with her voice rising.

"She says your path will find you."

"And what does that mean?" she retorted quickly.

Aragorn however just met her gaze evenly, and slowly she felt her temper level. When he judged she was calm enough to listen to him properly he answered, "It means, Fia, that on the morning after tomorrow, you will get into a boat with us and we will travel down stream. It means that until some other purpose finds you, your fate is tangled with ours. And find you it will, I am certain." He paused and looked at her with a measuring eye, "Lady Galadriel knows something of this that she will not tell me. But Serafina, it also means that until such time you are still in my protection. For that, at least, I am grateful, even if I should not be."

Serafina did not know what to say. Her mind was distracted by Aragorn's comment regarding the Elf Lady. She started to wonder again what it was that the lady knew. Had she seen all of what Serafina had in the Mirror?

But Aragorn interrupted her thoughts, "You are hiding something from me," he said matter-of-factly.

"Why do you say that?"

"I know you," he said seriously, "and you are not so hard to read as you might think,"

Serafina smiled, she remembered Gandalf saying something similar. "You have been talking to the Wi -" She caught herself, but too late. Aragorn had perceived the word before it left her lips and bowed his head momentarily, she took a deep breath.

He recovered quickly however and continued on as if she had never spoken, "If you will keep your secret then that is your choice."

"I will,"

"And yet you would tell Boromir?"

"Boromir?" She asked raising her eyebrows at him. Then she questioned herself - would it really be so bad as to let him think there was one secret, instead of a secret and a mystery? She would not be travelling with them for much longer anyway. "Boromir knows part, but only because he told me" she conceded.

"Serafina, if this is about the quest, or if it impacts those of us around you…" he let the sentence fade away then said in a low voice, "I need to know the state of mind of my charges."

Serafina riled at his words, "This has nothing to do with that vile Ring! It has to do with me, and I may or may not divulge the information at my own discretion. If you are purely concerned with Boromir's state of mind you might talk to him, but you know what weighs on him as well as I."

"And what of your state of mind?"

"Soon I will not be your concern any longer."

"You are still my concern," he said gently, trying to soothe the hurt in her voice, though he could not place it's cause, "and I do not regret it."

Serafina however, did not want to be soothed. She was angry - angry with him for the things she'd seen in the mirror. So she said spitefully, "And you always let the wisdom of elves dictate your every decision?"

Aragorn raised an eyebrow but did not answer immediately. When he did it was with such humility and simplicity that Serafina regretted her harsh words, "I was raised among the elves, their wisdom is mine also." She had the grace to look slightly abashed. Aragorn sighed and looked at her. "Come," he said quietly, reaching out his hand again to caress her face. To her own surprise she closed her eyes and did not pull away. He let his hand linger there for a moment, until her cheeks reddened. Serafina opened her eyes and was taken aback by the frown on his face. After a moment she realised that it was no frown of displeasure. She looked away quickly, recognising the darkness in his eyes instantly, but she could not push away his words, "Let us not quarrel."

"You're right," she agreed quietly, eyes cast down. She could feel him trying to catch her eye, but she stubbornly kept them hidden from him. Eventually she heard him sigh and he walked away from her.

Standing there alone on the balcony Serafina realised what she'd dreaded and why she was now instinctively shying away from him; if she was going to prevent the future where Aragorn died she needed to sacrifice the other future - their future. She knew that at the soonest opportunity she needed to distance herself from him, physically. Her only hope was that her absence would change the future enough to save Aragorn's life. The urgency of it pressed on her like a physical burden, and she felt her shoulders slump. Aragorn was too important for her to mess this up. Again she remembered Legolas' words and she felt their meaning renewed. Middle-Earth needed Aragorn, Frodo needed Aragorn, Gondor needed Aragorn. Serafina would do without.


	32. Chapter 32

A/N: So, just though I'd let you guys know that lots of upcoming scenes are being written well in advance, and well… I think you should know this is becoming epic… that's all I will say ;) Thank you reviewers!

Enjoy!

Review!

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Chapter Thirty-two

Boromir would not wake in the morning for practice. Serafina laughed at him as he swatted them away lying in his blanket roll. He was clearly suffering from his consumption of wine the night before. Aragorn kept his face fairly passive, but Serafina caught him dropping Sam's pots and frying pans on a rock near the man's makeshift bed. She could have sworn she saw a ghost of a smile play on his lips when Boromir swore loudly and rolled over onto his stomach.

Most of the company was awake; Legolas and Gimli were evidently out on another walk. When Serafina and Aragorn rose to walk to the clearing used for practice, Merry and Pippin joined them. Serafina looked at them questioningly and Merry spoke up,

"We thought we could use a few last minute pointers… you know, just in case."

Serafina smiled in answer, she was not feeling particularly talkative, she had herself consumed too much wine the previous night and though she did not have a headache she did not feel much like talking. Aragorn however answered and said they would be welcome to join them.

Serafina tried to keep all of the revelations from the night before out of her mind as she walked through the woods to the clearing for the last time. She realised she would be sad to leave the trees - a feeling she was sure she would not have felt if she was not forced to re-join the fellowship for at least part of the quest.

She only half payed attention as Merry and Pippin practiced with Aragorn. She knew a couple of hours must have passed before he called her over but she did not feel them go by. When she drew her sword she was finally able to focus. She rejoiced in being able to forget the night before, forget the visions, forget even the man in front of her and focus purely on the swordplay.

"Good," he said grimly after they had sparred for a time, "You are learning well. What you need to remember, and his goes for you two as well Master hobbits, is that you will never be able to match your opponents in strength. You are not strong enough to fight stupid, so always stay alert. Think clever and move fast, hopefully that will keep you alive," he said eyeing Serafina pointedly as he finished. "Still, if any battle comes our way the three of you, and Frodo and Sam will do well to stay behind Gandalf."

Serafina's and the hobbits' heads snapped up. At first Aragorn held her gaze in confusion but as her expression turned sad she saw realisation dawn and his face contorted with pain. He dropped his sword to the ground and covered his face.

"Aragorn?" Serafina asked from where she stood. She should go to him, she knew. She hesitated for a moment remembering her decision the night before; distance was the answer. But looking at him standing there in distress made her disgusted with herself. Surely she could comfort a friend! And what difference would it make, she would be leaving them in any case.

Back straight she closed the distance between them, her heart racing she stood squarely in front of him. "Aragorn?" she asked quietly again, aware that Merry and Pippin were still with them. He made no answer. Serafina didn't know what to do. Looking down she saw his fallen sword lay forgotten on the ground. She bent and picked it up. Stealing herself she gritted her teeth for courage and pried his right hand from his face and placed his sword hilt in it gently, closing his grip around it. She felt his hand tighten on the sword and his other hand left his face. His features were still twisted with grief. She felt awkward standing in front of him with Merry and Pippin looking on, equally uncomfortable. No one had really discussed Gandalf's death, at least not when she had been around and the topic felt extremely taboo. Last time she had attempted to say words of comfort to him she'd been rewarded with words that slapped her in the face, whether he'd intended it or not.

She knew she needed to say something to him. The longer she stood there in front of him with her hands on his the more aware she became of her own discomfort in the situation.

"Are you alright?" she whispered.

Most of her communication with Aragorn was done just between the two of them. She often felt uneasy conversing with him in front of the others. She realised this was probably what gave their friendship such an intimate feeling and having Merry and Pippin as witnesses to her trying to comfort the man increased her self-consciousness. Aragorn opened his eyes and looked at her. His eyes seemed to be full of questions and pain. She could feel the unspoken emotion from his gaze and squeezed his hand underneath her own. Apparently the moment passing between them appeared too private for the hobbits and Merry hit Pippin on the shoulder and said in a quiet and sad voice,

"Come on, Pip. Let's go."

Serafina breathed a sigh of relief as their footsteps faded and focused on the man in front of her. He stepped back from her and sheathed his sword. His eyes met hers again.

"I can accept that he is dead," he said emphatically, gesticulating to reinforce his words, "and I can even move on!" he exclaimed throwing his arms wide. He was silent for a moment and Serafina tried to process this side of Aragorn she'd never seen. They had always discussed her; her problems, her wounds, her future with them. She had no idea how to talk to him about him. Fortunately for her he seemed to be in an expressive mood, he looked at her gravely as he said, "But what I cannot seem to master, Serafina, what eludes me…" he paused unable to find the words and walked away from her a few feet and then turned back. "I cannot get used to it," he owned to her.

He continued walking away from her and eventually leant his back against a tree facing her on the edge of the clearing. He did not watch her as she walked to join him. She fought herself the whole distance, the coward within her screaming at her to leave him - leaving would be easier. Before she knew it she was in front of him again.

"You cannot not guess how many times each day I think I should consult him on this matter or that," he said not looking at her.

"I'm assuming more than once," she said dryly without thinking. When she realised how unfeeling her comment was her eyes widened, but she stubbornly kept her chin lifted high, she wouldn't take it back.

To her surprise though a grin appeared on Aragorn's face and he chuckled lightly. She smiled in relief.

"Yes Fia," he said with a sad smile, "more than once."

"No matter what decisions you make, Aragorn. None of them would question you, they trust you implicitly." Her words were slightly stiff but she said them with conviction.

"And what if I make the wrong decision?" he challenged her.

"You won't," she said confidently, her voice and eyes hard.

"You cannot know that," he said frustratedly, "You cannot see the future. What if the quest fails as a result of a decision I made?"

Serafina blushed at the reference to the future, but left it unexplained. "I know you," she said, blushing deeper for repeating his words from the night before back to him, "You won't let the quest fail."

Aragorn looked at her with an odd expression. Serafina thought she saw gratitude in it and yet he seemed still unconvinced. He reached out and took her right hand in his own. He looked at their joined hands and began to trace the outlines of the almost healed skin on her wrist.

"Tell me something," he said pointedly changing the topic, "Was it a calculated stumble in Moria? Or did you actually trip and steal my knife in the spur of the moment?"

Serafina grinned at him. She felt relieved that she did not have to think about this kind of interaction; banter came naturally to her. She could tell that he was still grieving, she could read it in his face and in the way he held her hand. She tried not to think about their joined hands as she stood there - if it comforted him she would let him do it, but she refused to dwell on it or make more out of it than it was. The way he traced his fingers along her scarring skin was slightly more distracting.

"Do you really need to ask?" she said with an audacious smile.

Aragorn shook his head, but a small smile appeared on his lips, "I thought as much," he said still looking down.

Serafina laughed and said, "I was so worried you would see through me, so I hid my face in your chest but then I -" she stopped herself abruptly. What was she going to say? I became disoriented by your closeness? Serafina balked visibly but fortunately he was still examining her wrist and missed the expression in her eyes. She spoke quickly to hide her falter, "But I was able to slip it into my shirt before you noticed."

Silence settled between them for a moment. Serafina noticed that Aragorn appeared to be lost in his own thoughts. She reprimanded herself mentally for becoming so comfortable with him that she could have said too much. Presently though Aragorn was smiling, he raised his eyes to meet hers. Serafina looked at him questioningly and he let his smile grow.

"That was quite a story you told last night," he said.

A smile of her own twitched onto her lips, "It was true."

"I know," he answered, "I could tell by your blush."

Serafina reddened but raised her eyebrows. "That could have been the wine," she said defiantly.

"It was not the wine," he said smiling. "Though Boromir did a good job of getting you to drink it."

Serafina shrugged her head to the side, "It was good to forget things, if only for a moment."

"Forget the secret that he knows?" he asked with an eyebrow raised.

She looked at him darkly. "It is not a secret. I would just prefer to not discuss it."

"Very well," he said inclining his head politely, but there was a clipped tone in his voice that made her grind her teeth. "It is good to see the two of you getting along in any case."

Serafina let out a harsh bark of laughter. "He is only trying to ease his fancy, I suspect once he either gets over it or gets used to it he will be as eager to chop off my head as he ever was," she said carelessly. In her complacent attitude she missed the flash of comprehension in Aragorn's eyes. Had she seen it she may have reanalysed her words, but she remained unaware of the conclusions he was drawing.

"I do not think him so inconstant," he said dropping her hand. Serafina immediately folded them over her chest. Something about the tone in Aragorn's voice was making her uncomfortable, "Your friendship, I think, will be invaluable to him. I am worried that the ring is effecting him ever more."

"I am not offering him friendship," she retorted.

Aragorn raised his eyebrows but said nothing. She felt his eyes on her but she looked determinedly over his shoulder. Eventually Aragorn said, "Fia, truly I am sorry if I've offended you. I only seek to know all that I must to lead the quest, and that includes -"

"I know," she cut him off, "And it is fine. Really. I just need some time to come to terms with things."

"I understand," he answered gravely.

Together the made their way back to their camp in awkward silence. Each not understanding the other as they thought they did.

#

"You're joking," said Boromir as they were all seated together for their last evening meal. He sat next to Serafina and she looked down determinedly at the food she cradled in her lap. The rest of the fellowship, having already been informed of the temporary addition to their journey, was glancing between Serafina, Boromir and Aragorn, the latter siting across the group from them.

"Indeed I am not," Aragorn answered simply, "It is not ideal, but -"

"Not ideal?" cried Boromir, "It is madness! Unless you have decided to change your plan and we journey to Minas Tirith after all?"

A thrill of panic charged through Serafina. Minas Tirith was a direct route to Denethor - a future she refused to see come to pass. She looked up quickly and interjected with heated fierceness.

"If you journey to Minas Tirith, be assured I will leave you before then!"

"Have you forgotten already what may be waiting for you in my city?" Boromir asked her quietly with a confused expression on his face, he was not quite enough and Serafina could feel the interest from the rest of the company increasing. She looked away from Boromir's questioning gaze back to the ground.

"My decision remains unchanged," answered Aragorn eventually.

"Then what? She travels with us to Mordor?" he challenged.

But Aragorn would not let his temper rise. "Serafina will travel on alone before we make a direct path to the black lands," he said calmly.

"And you would allow this? She knows nothing of the wild - you send her to her death!"

"Less than a month ago you would have left her to the wolves," Aragorn said quietly giving Boromir a sideways glance, "In fact I remember you suggesting it on more than one occasion."

"And you stood by her side at every turn!" shouted Boromir, "does her safety not concern you anymore?"

Serafina could barely believe her ears. She sat watching the two men wide-eyed and too infuriated with the topic to interject again and too angry about being discussed in such a manner that speech was now impossible. Boromir was completely outraged, she had expected that he would not like it since his undertaking of the guilt for the path her life had taken. She had not expected him to take on the role of protector. She could not imagine what Aragorn thought had passed between the two but she hoped he would maintain the detached approach he was employing.

"My level of concern for Serafina has not wavered," he said. Serafina had never seen his face look so hard and devoid of emotion, his voice was carefully calm but she detected a note of warning in it. A shiver ran down her spine. "That is why," he continued his voice gaining in heat, "she travels with us as long as it is safe to do so. I will not have her walking the wilderness alone a day longer than she must."

"Why can she not remain here?" Boromir demanded.

"Do you really think that Aragorn would allow Serafina to accompany us if sanctuary in Lórien was an option?" asked Legolas sharply.

Boromir didn't answer.

"Exactly what I was going to say! Of course he wouldn't!" exclaimed Gimli slapping his legs and standing up, as if trying to close the discussion for good. He looked sideways at Serafina and said, "Perhaps this way we'll get the chance to hear the stories of her encounters with the remaining three naked men!"

"You're putting her in danger Aragorn." Boromir said in a low voice, "You will not - we will not be able to protect the hobbits and her as well!"

Gimli sat back down sighing. Serafina threw the remains of her dinner on the ground and stood her eyes livid.

"I can protect myself!"

"Fia sit down," Aragorn said wearily. Serafina ignored him.

"Is that what you've been doing? Deluding her into thinking that she has a chance on her own? Her chance of surviving with us is small, and on her own it does not even exist."

"Have you not been preparing her for this very situation every morning we have stayed here?" asked Legolas, clearly getting sick of the discussion. "If you were not prepared to accept the possibility that she would need to employ the skills you were teaching her then why did you bother?"

"I never expected her to need to use them. The only possibilities I was prepared for were that she would be left in the safety of the elves or that we would have her journey with us to Gondor. I did not expect that she would be left to wander the wildness alone. I did it because Aragorn insisted it was necessary!"

"Then you should be thankful that Aragorn had the foresight you lacked."

"Legolas, enough." Aragorn said quietly.

"Frodo," began Boromir turning to the hobbit in desperation, "what do you think? Do you also believe that Serafina has a place re-joining our journey?"

Frodo looked at Boromir in alarm at being dragged into the conversation. Slowly he let his eyes trail up to Serafina who still stood, her chest heaving in anger.

"I think there is no other option. I do not rejoice in it but I agree that she is better to travel with us for a time instead of traveling all of the way alone," he paused and regarded Boromir for a moment, "I also think you would not object so strongly if we were to accompany her to Minas Tirith, which makes me question the motivation of your objections."

Boromir looked at the hobbit in surprise. "And you have no fear that she would begin to desire for the ring? She has sworn no oath to protect you."

"If Serafina wanted the ring I'm sure she would have taken it already, or kept it when she did take it! Clearly it does not affect her like it does others!" he answered sharply.

Silence fell on the fellowship and Serafina felt a rush of gratitude to Frodo. She knew Boromir accused her so as a last resort but she could not help feeling all of the goodwill that had been established between them disappearing on her side.

"Very well," said Boromir quietly as if speaking to himself. Then he raised his voice slightly to address the group, "If you stand unanimous on this I can see I cannot change your minds however strongly I oppose the decision." He stood slowly, rising next to Serafina, towering over her, "Whatever happens from this point on, I will not be held responsible for it," he said to her bitterly. He turned from the group and walked away. Each of them watched as he disappeared between the trees, a lone figure in the darkness.

"Well that was unexpected!" exclaimed Gimli. He stood, grunting as he rose, and made his way promptly to his bedroll. Merry, Pippin, Frodo and Sam began talking among themselves in hushed whispers and grabbed the remaining portions of dinner. After a moments deliberation Legolas too rose and began to prepare himself for rest and the morning that would follow.

Serafina stood still, her hands balled into fists at her side. She took a few deep breaths in an attempt to calm herself but it was useless. That they would discuss her, so openly and in front of her without even considering to consult her left her blood boiling. What's more, that Boromir would deign to guilt himself into assuming the role of her protector was infernal! She closed her, but Boromir's accusations that she would form an attachment to the ring resounded in her ears. She could barely believe that he would dare make such a comment. Spitefully she began to wish that she hadn't bothered to distract his attention from the ring those many times. Perhaps then the hateful man would reap what he sowed.

She felt a hand on her shoulder.

"You should not blame him," he said gravely, "he is not himself."

Serafina opened her eyes to see familiar grey ones looking at her in concern. "I blame him for being so concerned with his own opinion of himself that he feels duty bound to protect me, though he would probably rather that I rot in a dungeon," she remarked bitterly.

"I think you are too hard on him," he answered with a strange note in his voice, "I do not believe that he wishes you harm anymore than I'm sure you believe it now. I also try to protect you, Fia. You used to get angry with me for it."

"I still get angry at you for it," she countered, "but that is different."

"How is it different?" he asked fiercely. Serafina looked at him and was surprised to find hurt in his eyes.

"It is different because you are Aragorn and he is Boromir! What other difference could there be?"

"I think the difference is in how you perceive it," he said bitterly.

"Of course it is," she answered not understanding his irritation, "that is what I said."

Aragorn searched her face but his eyes never gave hint of if he found what he was looking for or not. Serafina lowered her eyes and she saw Frodo watching her keenly. He did not frown but he looked away soon after she caught him watching her. She raised her eyes back to Aragorn; his face was once again grim, only traces of hurt were now visible.

She bade him goodnight quickly and walked away from him, utterly perplexed at his words and his conduct. Boromir had accused him of not caring for her safety, something Serafina knew Aragorn took very seriously, and Aragorn had barely flinched. And instead he had reprimanded her for being furious with Boromir, and then attacked her for being angry that they both try to protect her for different reasons. The man was infuriating. In her blanket roll she rolled over and over, trying to force stillness onto her mind. When sleep claimed her finally she was bombarded with dreams springing from the scenes she'd seen in Galadriel's Mirror.

She woke angry though the morning dawned crisp and clear. After packing the camp Serafina stood to the side of the fellowship as Galadriel presented them each with elvin cloaks and personal gifts to help them or encourage them in desperate times. She felt like an intruder on an intimate family gathering, the person who isn't actually supposed to be there and tries to stand in the corner hoping no one will notice how awkward the situation is being made by their presence.

Eventually though the moment passed and Serafina followed the fellowship to the boats.

"Will you not accept my gift to you, Serafina of Gondor?" sounded a clear voice in her head.

Serafina spun around and saw Galadriel standing in the line of trees. Quickly she checked to see that none of the others were watching her before walking towards the beautiful elf, trepidation in every step.

"Take this," she said, though not in Serafina's head. She looked into her eyes and was overcome for a moment with wonder. She shook her head quickly, attempting to clear away her admiration for her beauty - she refused to become as hopeless as Gimli. Galadriel seemed to perceive her thoughts and laughed lightly. She was holding out to her a pouch for her belt made of the softest and most beautifully embossed leather. Serafina took it. It was approximately five inches deep and seven inches across. Immediately she noticed the pouch was not empty and she looked at Galadriel questioningly.

"Do not open it now. What you will find inside is something to help you on your path, wherever it may lead," she said with a mysterious smile.

"Thank you," said Serafina, frowning at the elf.

For some reason Galadriel found her response amusing and laughed again. "Go now Serafina. My thoughts go with you and your companions. From here the road is long."

Serafina walked quickly away from the elf to find herself about to be stuck in a boat with another. Legolas though, payed her little attention as she got into the boat. She smiled when Gimli joined them, at least her last days with the fellowship would be spent with a friend. She glanced over quickly to Aragorn. He had barely looked at her all morning. She sighed and realised she should be happy that distance was festering between them, but somehow a smile wouldn't come.


	33. Chapter 33

A/N: YAY! I have an update for you, my patient, loyal and lovely readers!

Enjoy!

#

Chapter Thirty-three

The mountains floated by as they travelled down stream and the cold clean air whipped her hair around her. Serafina sat in the front of the boat with her knees around her ears.

"You would think that they could have given us a bigger boat. Surely your elf Lady could have foreseen that the three of us do not fit," she grumbled.

"I'm sure she could have! But the Lady is such a wonder, and a beauty that I will not have you befouling her name by questioning her powers or capabilities. Never again will I meet such beauty,"

"If you are lucky we may meet her again one day," said Legolas.

"If that is true there could never be as happy a dwarf as I,"

Serafina dropped her head back to her knees. It seemed there was no hope for Gimli. She tried not to listen as the elf and dwarf launched again into raptures about the forest and the Lady. She looked at the other two boats. They seemed to be more comfortably seated. Envy for different companions surfaced but slowly she realised that she wouldn't want to be in one of those boats either.

She shifted her weight trying to find a more comfortable position. Something foreign pressed against her side. With a thrill she remembered the gift from Galadriel. She had decided already to wait to look inside the pouch until evening, away from the elf's keen eyes, but curiosity nudged at the corners of her mind.

As subtly as possible she moved her hands to the pouch to try and feel the contents within, but the shape gave away no hints. Her hands moved around the pouch with increasing curiosity.

"Never did I think I would be so blessed as to behold such wonder with my own eyes,"

"It speaks well of you dwarf, to give praise where praise is due,"

"Aye,"

Serafina rolled her eyes; her companions were so fixated on their praise of the elf that she was sure they would not notice her movements. Ever so carefully she shifted again to peek inside. Bound paper and a leather-bound book sat neatly in the pouch. Books? What purpose did the elf witch have in giving her books? Apparently Galadriel was not all knowing; she seemed to not be privy to one certain piece of information, one that would render her gift unusable.

"What do you do so secretively?" asked Legolas.

With a scowl she closed the pouch quickly, "I am minding my own business,"

"Unless my eyes deceive me, something rather uncommon I assure you, you have acquired a new pouch,"

"Aye, master elf! Is that a gift from Lady Galadriel, lassie?"

"Yes, if you must know. But I might have gotten more use out of one of those pretty cloaks,"

"Don't be so ungrateful lass! A resourceful girl like yourself could find many uses for such a gift!"

"What's inside it, Serafina?" asked Legolas shrewdly.

"Something to help me on my path, wherever it may lead," she answered flippantly.

"And what is your path?"

"I don't know, but if it does not lead me far away from you, and all your kind, I will make myself a new one!" she spat into the wind.

From behind her a suppressed chuckle echoed from Gimli. She smiled - glad he was not totally changed from the dwarf she had been friendly with.

#

"I can take the second watch," to the stunned silence that met her proposal as the fellowship prepared for sleep after their first day on the water she added, "It's not like I would do a worse job than the dwarf."

"That is true enough," agreed Legolas slyly giving Aragorn a sideways look.

"And what do ye mean by that Master Elf?" asked Gimli darkly.

Serafina ignored them, "I have spent the entire day in a boat so small I could do nothing but sit with my head on my knees. Let me take the second watch - I am not tired and I have nothing to do tomorrow but what I did today."

"Spreading the watches would give us more rest, I am not opposed to that," interjected Boromir absent-mindedly.

Aragorn raised an eyebrow at the man but said nothing.

"Good it is settled then," she said with finality, "Legolas will wake me and I will wake…"

"Me. When the morning star is at its lowest between those mountain," said Aragorn looking at Serafina intently.

A mischievous smile twitched at her lips but she fought it down and prepared for sleep, she would need as much as she could get.

She slept quite deeply; too soon though gentle hands shook her awake, gentle but careless.

"It is your watch, Serafina,"

She mumbled her acknowledgment and made her way closer to the still burning fire.

"Do not forget when to wake Aragorn,"

She didn't answer.

"I don't know what you are up to thief,"

"Good-"

"But maybe you would tell me what has passed between yourself and Boromir," he paused again but she did not answer, "His behaviour towards you has been most unexpected of late,"

"And what do you make of it Master Elf?" she said turning to him with an eyebrow raised.

"We each have our own theories," he answered vaguely.

"Then I suggest you choose one and be satisfied with it; my business does not concern you,"

"It may not concern me, but until you are on that path of yours, it impacts us all. Stay alert, Serafina. Being on watch is not a duty to be taken lightly,"

Serafina thanked the gods fervently as he turned his back on her and laid himself down for sleep. Once she was sure that the elf and the rest of the company were indeed sleeping she sat by the fire and emptied the contents of her pouch.

The flickering firelight revealed two books, a small quill and an equally small phial of ink. One of the books was leather bound and had the air of much use and great age, the other was simpler, newer and bound lightly with twine. She picked up the older book first and held it as close to the firelight as she dared. It opened easily, as if it was happy to reveal its secrets to her. Serafina's eyes widened in disbelief at what met her eyes.

Beautifully illustrated pictures almost danced on the pages before her. Underneath each picture was a word, or two, written in a clear hand. It was a book for learning to read and write. She flicked through it several times and realised that the first part of the book was devoted to leaning the letters, in relation to sound. She began to recognise the same letter appearing in each word on a page. In the middle of the book she found more and more words strung together, she thought perhaps they were stories, or poems. By the end of the book the writing went on for a few pages without break but for illustration.

Curiosity burned her, but her pride hurt sorely. It was one thing to admit she could not read or write. It was another thing entirely to accept help and humble herself to learn. Frustratedly, she dropped the beautiful book and picked up the other one. She flipped through the pages but there was nothing to see. It was blank. She ground her teeth and wondered what the elf witch was playing at. Her mind thought up scenario after scenario, trying to account for such a gift, attempting to find the motivations behind her obvious desire for Serafina to be literate. But nothing came to her.

Angrily she thrust all of it back into the pouch and wished she had not volunteered to take the second watch, the moments of discovery were not worth the lack of sleep. Her eyes rested on Legolas and she scowled. Slowly an idea came to her, perhaps she was going to be able to make the night worth while after all. She smiled to herself, pleased to have something to do and set about work, she wanted to be completely finished by the time she was to wake Aragorn.

#

The second day of paddling was passing without anything exceptional. Serafina noticed she was marginally more tired than usual, but not as much as she'd expected. Nevertheless she scowled in the insistent sunshine. Was Legolas really so gifted a paddler? She had worked pins into the underside of the boat and attached a pair of old tights to them with rocks inside. She had even been careful to hang them from his non-preferred side so that he would be forced to correct his strokes often, but the elf seemed non-pulsed.

They floated further and further down the river, but the further they went, the surer Serafina was that she had not attached the weights to the boat correctly. Legolas paddled with such ease and grace, and with so honest an expression that she knew something had gone wrong with her plan.

Frowning angrily she turned her mind over to the contents of her pouch. Slowly she tried to figure out if she wanted to be able to read and write. She certainly had no objections to the ability. Her problem, she knew, was what the company would think if they knew that she was trying to learn to read - she could not stand the humiliation. But, she thought to herself, she would not be with them for much longer; surely she could get a head start for a few nights by firelight? They would never need to know.

A furious voice broke her reverie,

"What is this?"

Serafina looked up to locate the enraged cry. Boromir had stopped paddling and was hauling something out of the water on the right hand side of his boat. Her eyes widened and she turned around instantly to look at Legolas, he however, was watching Boromir with a confused gaze. Slowly her stomach sank.

"Who did this?" demanded the man, shouting across the water.

Serafina kept her face guilt free, she continued to look at the thing in his hand as if trying to figure out what it was.

"What is it Boromir?" came a voice from further up river.

In the distance Serafina saw the shape of Aragorn in a grey boat turning around to paddle back up river towards them. Instantly her face betrayed her and reddened. She cursed herself out loud and a hearty chuckle sounded behind her.

"Good one lass! You've got some daring in you, I'll give you that," said Gimli.

"Others might call it foolishness," mumbled the elf.

Serafina ignored her two companions and tried desperately to wipe the guilt from her face, but she knew it was no use; they were, after all, her stockings. Resigning herself to her fate she raised her own voice to carry to Boromir,

"In fairness Boromir, it seems I attached them to the wrong boat - I sorely hoped to see the elf make a fool of himself. But I will settle for this," she said letting a twinkle come into her eye.

Boromir did not answer. Even from such a distance Serafina could see anger surging through the man. In a swift and strong action Boromir ripped the stockings from the boat and hurled them through the air. The stocking soared swinging end over end with the rocks in the feet and eventually splashed into the river. Boromir hadn't stopped to watch the stockings fly, by the time Serafina turned her attention back to the man he was paddling forwards towards Aragorn. Four small faces looked between Serafina and the Captain of Gondor, one face watched her only, she could just imagine his grey eyes looking for the answer to an unknown question in her eyes, except this time she imagined them laced with distain.

"You meant that for our boat?" asked a quiet voice behind her.

"Yes," she answered curtly.

"Then next time you might double check which boat you sabotage. It would be terrible if another of your jokes went awry and Boromir became particularly angry. We Elves are much more forgiving,"

Serafina whipped her head around and regarded the Elf. He wore an unusually smug smile as he paddled down river after the men.

"You!" she growled under her breath.

But Legolas would not answer, he paddled on looking forwards. Serafina turned her gaze to Gimli, who met it strongly,

"Don't look at me lassie, I had no part in it! We dwarves don't like to get involved in the quarrels between men and elves,"

She scowled and looked forwards again, certain that Legolas had switched the boats.

#

That evening the company sat around the fire in uncomfortable silence. Boromir was evidently still angry, Serafina watched as he stared down all those who made eye contact with him. Legolas and Gimli seemed to be the only two of the company relatively unaffected by the day's events.

She looked across the fire. Instantly her eyes met Aragorn's. He was looking at her with that same searching gaze. Heat from the fire and from her own discomfort assailed her. They had barely spoken to each other in two days. Part of her was glad for the distance; it was easier to believe the visions were only visions with space between them, but looking into his eyes now sent a thrill through her body that she wished she could ignore.

"Come lassie!" exclaimed Gimli, breaking the silence, "Tell us a story,"

Serafina whipped her head around to look at the dwarf; he was watching her with a twinkle in his eye from the firelight. Legolas next to him was smirking, for what reason though, she could not care.

"Mind you make it a happy one," he continued, "this night is sombre enough!"

"Hear, hear," piped up Merry.

Serafina looked at the hobbit to judge his sincerity. He smiled at her encouragingly. She smiled back unenthusiastically and quickly glanced over the rest of the faces around her. Most of them wore indifferent expressions, though none as indifferent as Aragorn, who had taken out a knife and had begun sharpening it slowly. It did not go unnoticed by her how dangerous he looked at time like these, when he appeared to be relaxed but was always ready to spring into action should danger come calling. Boromir however, was not indifferent.

"Some of us don't want one of your stories thief," he said when her eyes met his.

Stubbornly she jutted out her chin and eyed the man back. His eyes held a threat and a dare. Serafina smiled at him goadingly and turned away.

"Not long before I got tangled up in this," she gestured around her to indicated the quest, "life was becoming difficult. I'd been in Bree for too long; there were too many lowlifes, like myself, and those that were better off weren't better off enough for all of us to live off.

"I'd resorted to going from house to house, taking food or valuables, or money if I could find it, simply to be able to live. One night I ended up in the house of somebody I knew by sight, but not personally - his name was Heston. He was the son of a farmer from just outside of Bree; he'd left the farm to try village life. Unfortunately he was not particularly good at anything. He'd tried to be the apprentice of the blacksmith, and the carpenter, he'd even tried to learn the art of running an inn, but he was constantly being cut loose. He was certainly physically able to perform all of these duties - he was as strong as any farmer's son ought to be, but instead he lumbered about like a great brute instead of a strong man.

"It was in the early hours of the morning when I broke into the house he was staying in, I went straight to the kitchen and stated making myself some dinner. I did not know that Heston was a sleepwalker. When I was in the middle of finishing off a loaf of bread and packing some things into my rucksack Heston walked around the corner, completely naked,".

A pair of snickers sounded in the night and Serafina began to smile with enjoyment as she told the story, "He asked me who I was, and what was I doing. I answered him truthfully - I didn't think it fair to lie to a naked man, but it didn't seem to worry him. In fact he began walking about the kitchen as if I wasn't there. Slowly I began to realise he was sleepwalking. I sent up a quick thank-you prayer to the gods and hoped that Heston wouldn't wake up from the chill in the night air," she paused and added saucily, "He was certainly cold,"

A bark of laughter erupted from Gimli. Merry cried out and pointed at Sam, who was blushing modestly. Before continuing Serafina caught the ghost of a smile on Boromir's lips, she smiled gleefully at her victory. Her smile only faltered when her eyes rested on Aragorn, who had not looked up from his knife and had no trace of a smile on his face.

Pushing the ranger out of her mind Serafina ploughed on, "I think at that time part of me knew I should have left while I had the chance, but the opportunity of robbing him was still open to me, and I couldn't resist it. I began picking things up from in front of him, becoming less and less careful because the oaf was clueless. When I was about ready to leave another figure entered the room. It was a girl, naked, and about my age. I knew her as the daughter of the Captain of the Village Watch. She was in the middle of telling Heston to hurry up and come back to bed when she saw me. The two of us stared at each other for a moment. I knew she couldn't take me to her father; he would want to know what she was doing at Heston's home so late when the two were not married.

"Without any warning she strode up to Heston and slapped him hard in the face. He woke up instantly. She began screaming at him saying - 'There's a burglar, save me Heston!' The poor boy screamed when he saw me. He ran behind his lover, trying to hide his nakedness then he realised he was exposing her so he ran out in front of her to hide her body from my eyes, only to turn around to face her for his own embarrassment. She however, was not as stupid, nor as flighty. She pushed passed him, grabbing a frying pan as she went and hit me over the head with it before I knew what was happening.

"The next thing I knew was I was in a cell in the Village Watch headquarters. They tried to keep me there, but seeing as I hadn't actually stolen anything they let me go after a couple of nights. When they released me I looked up at the officer and it was none other than Heston. He had been given a job with the Village Watch for apprehending a burglar and preventing a crime. He told me he'd been hired for his quick thinking and level headedness".

Serafina stopped and looked around, all except for Aragorn were at least smiling. Laughter met her ears and she smiled.

"I can't believe they gave that idiot a job!" exclaimed Pippin, laughing.

"I couldn't either, but the day never came that I wished they hadn't,"

"Why's that?" asked Merry, "It can't have been good for Bree to have those kind of idiots enforcing the law,"

Serafina opened her mouth to answer but Boromir beat her to it, "Yes Master Hobbit, that would be the normal thing to think. But what was good for Bree and what was good for Serafina were probably very different things," the tone in his voice was unreadable. Serafina looked over at him trying to discern his motivations. When she looked away her eyes met Aragorn's again and she broke the contact instantly. Aragorn stood and the company fell silent. A solemn mood settled over the company once more, leaving the smiles and laughter from the story as a memory.

"Serafina," he said addressing her with her full name, "you will take the first watch. Legolas, you have the second,"

She stopped listening, and stared into the fire. Something had changed between them; she could not tell what it was. She was glad for the distance but his sudden contempt of her was uncharacteristic of him and unexplained. A frown came upon her brow as she realised she might have to leave soon; they were making good, steady ground down the river and the time for their paths to split would be soon. Lady Galadriel's smile seemed to flicker at her in the firelight teasing her with her knowledge.

Angrily she turned her attention from it and watched the fellowship prepare for bed and fall asleep one by one. All except Boromir, who paced about the campsite agitatedly.

The firelight flickered as she sat by it, waiting for the man to go to his bedroll and leave her in peace. It seemed however that Boromir had some other unknown intentions. He moved to the fire and paced across from her, looking up intermittently. She endured it as best as she good, ignoring him and pretending to watch the night vigilantly like she was supposed to.

"Fia," he began, she looked up at the use of her nickname but quickly looked away again. He continued, "Fia, you need to forgive my behaviour of late,"

"Of late?" she asked under he breath.

"I made a promise to myself to protect you, regardless of what you have become, because I owe it to you, I owe it to that child I sent down the river…" he let his voice trail off.

"You owe me nothing," she said, severely annoyed that he would begin talking like this again. She liked him better when he hated her.

"I owe you the chance of a life free from the trials you have lived through,"

"Boromir, listen to me -"

"No! You listen to me," he interrupted, his voice rising, "in Minas Tirith I can set things straight. You can have the life you were born to have,"

"The life of a prisoner's daughter?"

"It is better than your current situation," he spat.

"Being a thief? Instead you would have me brought to justice, that would be a better situation for me?"

Boromir regarded her with his hard eyes and spoke in a whisper, "We all have our duty to perform,"

"And my duty is to give my life to your country, to pay my debt," she sneered.

"I would not take your life Serafina,"

"No, not since it is your duty to protect me,"

"Justice must be served,"

Serafina's eyes flashed with anger, "What if justice has already been served? What if Arnudor's justice was to die for taking a child away from its mother?"

"We do not know the full circumstance there,"

"And yet you would lure me to Gondor to imprison me when the whole situation is not known,"

"What of your debt to Olin? Have you forgotten that you owe him his life, similarly to how I owe you yours?"

Serafina was silent for a moment; it was true she had tried to forget Olin. For so long she had thought him dead, and now to know that he had not died she almost wished he had, for his own sake.

"You did forget him," he said flatly, "I wish I were as callous as you,"

"I did not forget him!" she cried, a ghost of movement came from the area where Aragorn slept next to Frodo and Sam. Remembering the company was sleeping she lowered her voice to an angry hiss, "I see no point in tormenting myself day after day for something I had no control over,"

"You could have had control over it, just as I could have asked to hold the baby,"

"I could not," she said in a low, harsh whisper, "I yelled and screamed at Garth for days, desperate to go back and see the people who had killed my friend. Garth put me in a sack and dragged me all the way to Rohan and then when I tried again to return to Minas Tirith he dragged me North until I was so lost I could not have run away if I tried. Then we travelled together to Bree. I would have gone back for him. I am no coward. By the time we made it to Bree I had tried to block out the images in my head. Be assured Boromir, had I had my way you would have had me in his place,"

He regarded her for a long moment, the fire crackled away between them and Serafina looked down at her knees.

"Then you may be a better person than I have given you credit for, but that does not excuse you,"

"I don't trust your motivations to go to Minas Tirith,"

He looked at her curiously for a moment then walked across the fire and sat by her side, "At times I don't trust them either," he paused frowning heavily, "but is it truly the best path to destroy it?"

Serafina's eyes widened at his sudden subject change. "I want no part of it," she warned.

"I want no part in destroying it,"

"You misunderstand me, I want no part in anything to do with that thing,"

Boromir however did not seem to hear her, "To think that we might be destroying something that would have the power to defeat all of our enemies,"

"Boromir -" she began, but he still was not listening.

"What if we are delivering to him? What if we fail and it comes into the hands of Sauron?"

"Stop it!" she said hitting him hard on the shoulder to get his attention, "that is not your concern. Your concern is getting Frodo safely to Mordor with Aragorn and the others. That is all,"

For a long time he looked at the place she had hit him. Serafina wondered whether he would react with violence or if he would simply reprimand her with words. After a moment though his face softened and became sad, "All I want is the power to look after my people,"

"You don't need a ring to have power Boromir," she said darkly, "look at the power you have had over my life, over Olin's life. You have done good things too, for Gondor I am sure, and here also in the fellowship. You did not need a ring for any of that,"

"I am talking about winning a war,"

"If you want to talk war then talk to someone else, I know nothing of it,"

"I," he paused, suddenly vulnerable, "I would talk with Aragorn, but he is suddenly distant,"

She swallowed and said, "I have not noticed any change in him,"

"Then perhaps I really am losing my mind," he said laughing in spite of himself, "He looks at you a lot though Fia. He cares for you,"

"I think you really are losing your mind,"

He smiled at her grateful for the good humour, "Will you not think again about Minas Tirith? Even if I cannot persuade Aragorn to change course, you should go there,"

"I am not going to Minas Tirith," she said through gritted teeth.

"At least consider it,"

"If you agree to go to sleep now and leave me in peace then I will consider it,"

Boromir laughed again, "You really are a terrible liar these days, but I will leave you to your watch. Goodnight Serafina,"

She watched him stand and walk to his bedroll. Once he was unmoving she cast her eye across the other members of the fellowship. They all appeared to be sleeping peacefully. As she turned her attention to withdrawing her books from her pouch she thought she saw some movement coming from Aragorn's bedroll. Her head snapped up immediately but no further movement followed. Dismissing it she turned her attention back to the books, yes it was time to learn to read.

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	34. Chapter 34

A/N: Another chapter ready for your eyes. It brings with it misunderstanding and understanding and disappointment and romance and Aragorn. What else does one need? ;) PLEASE NOTE - I've reposted this chapter, I made a mistake - east/west mix up. Sorry.

R&R

Enjoy!

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Chapter Thirty-four

The days and nights began to blur together. Collectively the fellowship became increasingly grim; Legolas always looked on edge, his keen eye scouring the riverbanks as day after day they continued downstream. Even the hobbits were sombre, Merry and Pippin appeared awkward sitting in their boat with Boromir, who was ever more unpredictable, while Frodo and Sam were simply quiet and grave. Serafina did what she could to lighten the mood but as soon as Gimli became serious as well she lost all interest.

The night was still and chilly. Serafina had once again taken the first watch; she used the time to use the books Galadriel had given her. She'd even practiced lettering a few words but had been so disappointed with her unsightly script that she spent a lot more time on reading than writing. This evening however she'd been prevented from even taking out the books for Boromir refused to go to bed.

"Get some sleep Boromir," she urged again, "how do you expect me to watch the night properly when I'm constantly jumping at the sound of your pacing?"

"I will not rest," he answered with a shaky voice, "not until somebody sees reason. We must travel to Minas Tirith, for this path is folly. Do you not see the burden it weighs on Frodo? Have you no compassion for him?"

"I have told you, you are talking to the wrong person. Take this up with Aragorn," she said through gritted teeth.

"He will not hear me," he said looking at her intently, "but if you were to speak to him -"

"Me?"

"He will listen to you. He will consider what you say,"

"So that you can deliver the Ring to your father and put me in prison in one neat manoeuvre? Even if I wanted one of those things I would not ask it of Aragorn,"

"Then ask it of him for your life's sake; if you travel on your own you will not survive. Surely that must sway him,"

"You are operating under the assumption that I cannot survive on my own in the wild and that Aragorn must think the same,"

"Don't you remember how you came to us? Staving and injured? If you didn't die of starvation then the infection would have killed you in the end, Aragorn told me this. He restored you back to health. If you were to but ask him to take you to Gondor, I am certain he would oblige,"

"You think that Aragorn would put his concern for my safety above the fate of Middle Earth? If you think that then you know even less about the man than I,"

"He is not merely concerned for your safety Serafina,"

She grimaced internally, "I don't know what you are talking about,"

"Then talk to him for Frodo,"

Serafina did not answer him for a long moment. She took a breath to calm herself. The cool air filled her lungs refreshingly, "I will not," was all she said.

She remained totally silent for the rest of her watch, but Boromir did not take any rest. He sat crouched by the fire, fidgeting the entire time. Serafina knew what he was doing - the next watch was Aragorn's. She wondered whether she should warn him about Boromir when she woke him, but ultimately she decided against it; Aragorn knew Boromir's state of mind as well as any of them, he would not need warning. In any case Serafina felt as though she'd forgotten how to talk to the man, it had been so long since the two of them had had a discussion over anything.

Eventually the time came for Serafina to hand over the watch. Boromir's eyes followed her as she made her way over to Aragorn's sleeping form. She knelt beside him and shook his shoulder gently. A frown formed on her face as she took a moment to regard him; she was sure there was an extra line on his forehead than there was ten days ago. His shaggy dark hair fell across his face and her hand twitched to push it away. She reprimanded herself mentally, and flicked her eyes back to his to see if he was awake. Grey eyes stared up at her seriously.

"It's your watch," she said, and stood sharply. She stalked over to her bedroll, conscious of keeping her back as straight as possible. Once she was in her bedroll she focused on falling asleep as quickly as she could, not wanting to be privy to the conversation that was sure to follow between the men.

She had not long been asleep before tense voices woke her.

"I see the way you look at her!" she heard Boromir say, "Don't think I haven't noticed. How will you live with yourself after you send her away, never knowing what became of her, if she died, if she was taken advantage of?"

Serafina opened her eyes wide to watch the men. She started as Aragorn grabbed the man's shirtfront.

"I have no choice!" he said fiercely.

"There is always another choice. Let us take her to Gondor. In my city she will be taken care of,"

"And what else will you take care of in Minas Tirith? The ring?"

"It should be kept safe by those who would use it for our cause!"

Serafina roused herself quickly, not trusting either of their tempers.

"I will not lead the fellowship to your city!" he said vehemently his face an inch from Boromir's.

She forced herself between them, "Aragorn, leave it" she said in a low voice, putting her hands on his chest to steady him.

He looked down at her where she stood facing him between himself and Boromir. The other man looked over the top of her at Aragorn, his face angry.

"She will not be so quick to defend you when she is lost and alone, or dead. Remember that Ranger," he said turning from them.

"Don't listen to him," she whispered to Aragorn when Boromir was out of earshot.

"And what if you die?" he asked rounding on her, "Would you prefer me to have heeded him when you're dead?"

"I have no intention of dying," she said dryly, "besides, you will not know if it happens. There is no use regretting actions you could not have taken even if you wanted to."

They were silent for a moment and Serafina took a few steps away from him. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Boromir get into his bedroll.

"You have been avoiding me," Aragorn said quietly.

Serafina lifted her chin and met his gaze strongly, "You haven't exactly sought me out,"

Aragorn nodded noncommittally, "Promise me something,"

"What?" she asked dubiously.

"Promise me that each morning before you set out you will practice the sword forms I taught you. Promise that you will practice them with both arms - neither are yet strong enough."

Serafina nodded, she shifted her feet. The distance between them felt awkward to her. They stood as strangers would on a first meeting with a respectful span separating them.

"If you meet anything hostile, hide. If you hear anything like a warg, promise me you will run as far and as fast as you can. Whatever you do - do not throw your sword. You hold onto it," he said earnestly.

Serafina swallowed and looked at him with hard eyes, but her voice was soft by comparison, "And if you hear a warg will you promise me the same in return?"

He looked at her curiously, "You do not need to worry yourself."

She looked away from his face and stared fixedly on his chest.

"Fia," he whispered, "where will you go?"

"I don't know," she answered, still unable to look at him.

"Not to Minas Tirith?"

"No,"

"What is waiting for you there?"

"Nothing that I want to meet!"

"Then why does Boromir think there is?"

"Boromir does not know what is waiting there," she whispered back harshly, her eyes meeting his, "Boromir speculates that I might find answers there, but they are answers that I have never looked for and that I can certainly go without."

"Would it be so difficult to speak plainly so that I may understand?"

Serafina looked at him and frowned. She was leaving soon, possibly tomorrow if they crossed to the other side of the bank, after the night she might not see him again. No, it wouldn't be so hard.

"It seems as though I am the child of a once prisoner of Gondor, a woman from the cells in Minas Tirith. She was pregnant in jail and by some mistake, or for some unknown reason I was, this child was taken from the mother and set adrift on the Anduin. Boromir was there when it happened. He thought the child, I, was dead, but now he thinks otherwise. It's all very uncertain. I don't know if I even believe him or not."

"Why does he think this child was you?"

"Because it happened at the time I would have been born. Because Garth told me he found me in the Anduin. Because the person who set me adrift is the person Garth sent me to kill when I was a child - Arnudor, the advisor to Denethor."

"I see," he said, his brow furrowed, "and he wants you to go to Minas Tirith so that you can find what? Your mother?"

"So he says," she paused and her mouth twitched into a smile, "he says that a name might be remembered in the prisons of a pregnant woman from twenty years ago. But somehow I think I would be asking for the name from behind the bars rather than as a visitor,"

"He would not do that to you."

"Really?"

"Do not mock me,"

"I do not mock you!" she cried in laughter, "But I think you are confusing Boromir with yourself!"

"Are you sure that you are not?"

"Yes! I am sure!" she said in good-humoured disbelief, "You are the one who protects me. You are the one that would help me to escape whatever justice I brought upon myself. That is who you are. Boromir is the man who has always hated me; he even hated the newborn baby that was me before I was called Serafina. But now he does not know whether he should go on hating me as he has done or give into stringent self-opinion and take responsibility for the monster he could have prevented! You see - the child haunted him. He wanted to pick it up, to hold it. He thinks that if he did he would have found it was alive, that I was alive, and then my life would have been different. He blames himself for who I am. But that is not enough to not want to bring me to justice, though he may not find my company quite so disgusting as he once did, I do not believe for a second he would hesitate to lock me in a cell."

"He feels guilty?" Aragorn asked, his face incredulous.

"More guilty than I have ever felt, I assure you. I think it comforts him though that I am not entirely evil," she said with a smirk.

"You are not evil at all Fia," he said darkly.

"No?" she asked, eyebrows raised.

"No,"

Serafina quailed a little under his intense gaze, "What on earth did you think was motivating his sudden protectiveness?"

Aragorn shook his head and looked down, "I thought he had fallen in love with you,"

"You are joking,"

"Not at all,"

"And what did you think of me?"

"I thought you were fighting feelings for him," he said, a sheepish smile forming on his face.

"What gave you that idea?"

"You," he said looking at her intently.

"I never meant to," she said, stumbling slightly over her words with the sudden serious tone of the conversation.

Aragorn paused for a second before speaking. Eventually he cocked his head to the side in a shrug-like gesture, "We are not taking you to Minas Tirith. On your own you might be able to find some answers without arousing Denethor's notice. You might be able to hide until this is all passed, then I would have your name cleared,"

She blushed at the proposal but her voice was steely, "If I go to Minas Tirith Denethor will find me,"

"That is not certain,"

"It is!" she countered insistently.

"How?"

"I saw it!" she hissed, "I saw it in Galadriel's Mirror,"

Aragorn looked at her for a long moment. She held his gaze.

"Do not ask me what I saw," she warned.

"You looked without permission?"

"I did not know what it was,"

Aragorn shook his head in disbelief, "And Lady Galadriel?"

"I do not believe she was displeased,"

Aragorn sat on a log by the fire and rested his elbows on his knees, "This is why you will not go to Minas Tirith?"

"Yes," she answered curtly.

"Where will you go?" he asked ignoring her tone.

"As far as I need to prevent the futures I saw in Galadriel's mirror,"

Aragorn did not answer straight away. He looked down at his hands. The cold air blew around them and her high-spilt skirt flapped in the breeze. Immediately she gathered it together and sat down beside the man.

He smiled at her, "They will miss you," he said nodding towards the hobbits. He spoke so quietly it could have been a groan of a tree or the murmur of the wind, "as will I, as will we all,"

"I can think of two at least who won't miss me, possibly three,"

"Well, Boromir for one, I suppose you mean Legolas perhaps, and…" he trailed off.

"Sam," she answered dully.

A smile broke out on Aragorn's face and he chuckled as he looked at her, "He has a good heart,"

"And a mistrustful nature; his scepticism will serve him well. If I had met more like him I would not have survived as long as I did in Bree," she said with a smirk.

Warm hands covered her own and she looked down. His hands, which were still familiar to her after so many nights of wound dressing, gathered her right hand between his own. She swallowed at the intimacy of the gesture, even though it was not the first time he had held her hand, she had barely spoken to him for ten days. Emotion stirred in her throat.

"I'm sure you would have risen to the challenged," he bantered lightly.

Serafina tried to force a smile, but one would not come. His hands encasing her own sent an overwhelming sense of loneliness through her.

"Fia," he murmured raising a finger to her chin. She looked up obligingly. His eyes didn't seem to search hers; instead they simply looked. Under his gaze she could not help feeling exposed. She pulled her head away but his hand gripped her chin and held her there. She swallowed again under his now forceful scrutiny, scared about what he might see in her face, scared about how she would survive without his protection.

His hand opened up on her chin and cupped her cheek, "You will be alright," he whispered fervently.

She nodded into his hand. She wanted to admit that she was scared but she still needed her pride, instead she said with a half smile, "What makes you say that?"

He mirrored her smile, "Elvish wisdom,"

Her face split into a grin and for a moment she let her guard slip. She enjoyed the feeling of his hand on her cheek and the other holding her own. Her eyes closed and instantly a flash of a naked shoulder pressed up against her teased her. She opened her eyes quickly to banish the vision, but in front of her Aragorn's eyes had darkened to match the colour of his in her mind.

Suddenly his hand was very hot on her cheek, and the heat from the fire made it unbearable.

"If you tell me where you are going, I will find you after this is over," his voice was husky.

Serafina was only able to shake her head and look down. His hand slipped off her face, over her neck and came to rest on her shoulder.

"What are you so afraid of Fia?" he breathed over her bowed head.

Her head snapped up to rebuke him, but her flippant comment died on her lips. They were so close. For the first time in days she was able to see the lines on his face; those weathered by the elements, and those caused by the cares he carried. Her eyes darted from his, to his lips, to his jaw, to his nose and cheekbones, then back to his eyes and lips. He inched closer. She could smell his breath and his scent, her lips parted.

A splashing sound came from the riverbank. Serafina froze, her eyes wide.

"Wait here," Aragorn whispered and stood silently.

She took a steadying breath and watched him walk away. As soon as he was out of sight her hand flew to her open mouth. She squeezed her nose in agitation between her thumb and forefinger. What was she doing? Angrily she stood up and began to pace before the fire.

Aragorn returned momentarily, "It was Gollum, I am sure. But he is gone now,"

Serafina looked at him and jutted out her chin, "When will we reach the western shore?"

"We cross the river tomorrow, we should reach the falls by midday. You will be able to leave us then,"

"I need some rest," she said flatly, "Goodnight Aragorn,"

"Goodnight," he said giving her a slight bow of the head as she turned. She caught a confused look on his face and felt guilty. But, she reminded herself as she slipped into her bedroll, she was doing it for his sake - distance was the answer.

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As the boats hit the western shore, Serafina's stomach was in knots. It had finally hit her just how unprepared she was to walk through the wilderness on her own.

Merry and Pippin had stuffed her rucksack full of food and an extra blanket, and other miscellaneous items that had made it twice its usual weight.

She said a brisk goodbye to each of the fellowship, embracing only the dwarf, Merry and Pippin. From the others she kept her distance. Frodo smiled at her kindly and she sent up a prayer for him as she turned to leave.

Aragorn took her arm and led her away from the party, as soon as they were a short distance away and behind a large boulder he stopped.

"You do not have to leave this minute,"

"It is better that I go now,"

He stepped closed and put his other hand on her arm, "Will you not tell me where you are going?"

"I don't know," she said, eyes on the ground.

"You don't know where you are going or you don't know if you will tell me?"

She looked up at him and searched his face. The visions from the mirror danced before her eyes, laughing at her because she was giving away her future.

"If I told you and you came looking for me, what if you didn't find me? Would you then wish I hadn't told you?"

"I don't know," he whispered sadly.

She looked away from his eyes, "It's time for me to leave,"

Aragorn sighed heavily, "Be safe Fia,"

She nodded in reply; she wanted to wish him well but her mouth would not open. Slowly he lowered his lips to her forehead and kissed her skin solemnly. Her eyes closed and she bit her lips. His lips were soft and gentle and his beard scratched her skin slightly.

"Aragorn!" yelled a frantic voice, "Aragorn it's Frodo, he's gone!"

The pair turned to see panic-stricken Pippin staring at them.

"We can't find Boromir…" he added.

Serafina's head whipped back to look at Aragorn. He'd closed his eyes momentarily, and when he opened them his face was hard.

"Serafina, go."

"But Frodo?"

"Go Fia," he whispered bringing a hand to her cheek, "I cannot bid you farewell a second time,"

"Aragorn!" urged Pippin.

He brought his forehead against hers; Serafina's eyes widened and her cheeks flushed red. His scent enveloped her and she could feel the warmth of his skin. And then he was gone. She watched him stride away to look for the hobbit. With a heavy heart she turned to begin her own journey, hoping the guilt for leaving her friends would abate with time.

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	35. Chapter 35

A/N: Woah. So many updates!

PLEASE NOTE - I replaced the last chapter just recently. I made a east/west mistake. Sorry if you now need to re-orientate yourselves. Honest mistake. Fixed now. To clarify Serafina got off on the WEST bank of the River Anduin.

On another important note, I'd like to point out that I will be taking bits from Tolkien's novels and bits from Jackson's film adaptation in the remaining chapters (of which there are still MANY), just so that you are aware of what is going on in case you think it's following the movie sequence and then it suddenly feels like the book. My reason for this is merely to ensure I tell the story in the best way possible. It's also fun to keep you all guessing a little bit ;)

Oh and I should put a warning on here for violence. There is violence in this chapter, not on a grand scale, but it does happen.

R&R

Enjoy!

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Chapter Thirty-five

It wasn't long before Serafina heard distant clangs of metal, shouts and cries. She turned around a number of times to go back, but ultimately she knew she would be of little, or no help to them. She didn't even know what was attacking them.

So she walked on steadily desperately trying to focus on her bearings rather than on the sounds of carnage behind her. She picked up the pace and to her relief the noise faded slowly into the distance. Suddenly something different sounded over the hills and down the valleys. Her feet stopped dead, she knew it instantly - it was the horn of Gondor, Boromir carried it on him at all times. Her mind flew back to a conversation she'd had with Boromir by the riverbank, _"I would have gone back for him. I am no coward," _she'd told him. Her stomach churned. No coward? She gritted her teeth; this had nothing to do with Olin. Then - she could have saved him, now - she had no hope of helping defend the fellowship from whatever onslaught they were fighting. It was a completely different situation.

She took a step forward away from the horn. Boromir's voice rang in her ears, _"I wish I were as callous as you,"_ Serafina closed her eyes. She wanted to ask something of the gods, but she found nothing to ask. Hastily she squared her shoulders and straightened her back. If she was no coward, then she owed it to her friends to be no coward. Drawing her sword she turn around and ran back in the direction she had come, keeping her mind as blank as possible so that she wouldn't be tempted to change her mind again.

The closer she drew to where she had left the fellowship the more the ground began to tremble. She ignored it. Her thighs were burning from running up the slope but she ignored that too. Something began to move up ahead. Then another something moved. Suddenly she realised that a large number of massive dark figures were running full pelt towards her. All thoughts of valour fled her and self-preservation took over her mind. She turned around again and flew back down the slopes, retracing her recently retraced steps. If the situation had not been so dire she would have laughed at herself but as she looked over her shoulder at the things running towards her she knew it was no laughing matter.

She ran and ran, praying now that she would not twist an ankle or trip, if she did the mob of ugly dark figures would catch her. The glances behind her that she afforded herself suggest that the creatures were a type of orc. But these orcs were bigger, stronger and more dangerously armed than those she had faced in Moria. Some were even as tall as Aragorn. Serafina nearly stumbled on the tree root and she knew she needed to focus on getting away from them.

She could hear them gaining on her. They began to shout and cry out at her, realising there was still someone loose. She wondered what had happened to the others. Had they driven the orc-things away, or did the brutes kill them all? Arrows began flying past her. Serafina ducked as she ran, her sword flailing wildly. Something heavy and blunt hit her square in the back. A screech came from her mouth as she flew forwards down the hill and tumbled head over feet until she came to a dead halt against a solid tree. She reached for her sword at her hip, and then she realised she had been holding it when she fell. She must have dropped it. She tried to stand but her body was slow in responding. A massive dark shape loomed above her. The orc smiled at her scarily and grunted something at his companions. The last thing she remembered before the world went black was Aragorn asking her to promise him that she wouldn't let go of her sword. That was only that night before.

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A putrid stench filled her nostrils. She wanted to wake up from the dream, but the more she tried to wake up, the more real the smell and the nightmare became. It took her a few minutes to fully comprehend her situation. Her hands were bound and slung around the neck of one of the beasts that had chased her. The stench came from the beast. Despite her best efforts there was no direction to point her nose that was less smelly. It was difficult to tell but as far as she was aware she was relatively unhurt, and judging from the strength of the sunlight it was not long after dawn. The beasts around her ran on, untiringly through the sunlight. Before long she decided it was probably best to feign unconsciousness as long as possible - she did not want to draw any attention to herself.

At midday, she was thrown unceremoniously to the ground. She still tried desperately to appear to be out cold. But she couldn't help opening her eyes when two heavy lumps where thrown down beside her.

"Pippin!" she cried out in a harsh whisper, her eyes were wide. Pippin looked at her in disbelief,

"Fia, what are you doing here?"

"Much the same as you, I would imagine," she answered slightly annoyed at the politeness of the question in such a desperate situation. She looked over Pippin at the other lump, it was Merry, and he looked much worse for wear, "Is he…" she trailed off.

"He's alright," he said sadly, "just a bit knocked around," Pippin paused and frowned before continuing more urgently, "But Serafina, the only think keeping us alive is that they thing we've got the you-know-what. They have to take us to Isengard. Half of them don't care, they want to eat us anyway,"

"Does that make me dinner?" she hissed at him, her eyes riddled with fear.

"I don't know, but we're relatively safe. You on the other hand - you need to get out of here," he said worriedly.

Serafina looked around wildly. There was no escape; hundreds of orc creatures stood around her, fighting, conversing and eating.

"There is no way out," she moaned desperately.

"Don't worry Fia, we'll think of something," he said seriously, and then added, "I won't let them eat you,"

Serafina fought back a strangled laugh and Pippin grinned at her apologetically, neither quite sure what was funny, but both struck deeply by the absurdity of their situation.

On the other side of Pippin, Merry groaned and the hobbit turned to help him sit up. Serafina began to watch the orcs. She noticed now that they weren't all the same massive creatures that she had seen chasing her. Her heart sank as she realised there were more types of orc than the ones she'd met in Moria. Some of them were bow-legged and others with lighter skin, some with darker. They all wore different emblems on their shields and armour, some white, some red. And they were all arguing. It seemed that when they needed to talk between bands they spoke in a mutilated version of Westron that she could understand. The shorter ones wanted to find shelter in the sunlight, some wanted to kill the hobbits. Her ears pricked up when she heard the word 'girl'. Instantly she closed her eyes and hoped they would take her for still being unconscious, but she kept her ears open.

"I say we kill it now, eat it. Make us stronger,"

"No, we wait until girl is awake - then she make sport,"

"Yes, I always like play with food,"

"If we start to eat it now, it will wake up. So we can play, and eat now,"

"I like meat truly alive, I want it to scream and fight and give good sport,"

Serafina had to stop listening. It was all she could do to keep her eyes closed. She felt Pippin lay back down against her and whisper, "Don't move Fia, not yet. Do you have a knife, anything like a weapon?"

Serafina inclined her head the barest inch; she knew they hadn't taken at least one dagger.

"We're going to cause a scene, make a fight. They don't seem to need much encouragement. When things are really loud and chaotic, run! Run as fast as you can! Go to Rohan and get help,"

Serafina nodded again and a small hand slipped into hers, she squeezed it and mumbled, "I'll come back for you,"

"You'll go first," said Pippin matter-of-factly.

Serafina opened her eyes to the merest slits and watched Pippin. He grabbed a small rock by his side and threw it with his hands bound like hers at an orc that had been arguing with three others. The effect was almost instantaneous. None of the orcs seemed to care who threw the stone; they were just eager to blame and fight. Soon the every orc was screaming, yelling, or hitting. Merry and Pippin had long since moved out of harms way and Serafina was in danger of being trampled. She stood quickly, and hurried toward the nearest boulder to hide behind it. She made it unnoticed. Just a matter of yards away stood a cluster of rock and trees that she thought she could hide in until the group had moved on. Stealing herself she turned her back on the crowd of angry orcs and began towards the trees. Just before she left the cover of the boulder a bloody hand gripped her left shoulder like a vice and ripped her backwards onto the ground.

Serafina looked up terrified into the face of a large orc with a white handprint smeared across his cheek. His hand was still on her shoulder and he ripped and pulled at it. She heard the fabric of her dress tear.

"Scream little pretty," he growled, "If you scream they might save you for another hour. If you don't - I'll have you here,"

Her throat constricted. She wanted very much to scream but she was too horrified to make any noise at all. The orc let go of her shoulder and it seared in pain as the blood rushed back to it and tried to find its way down her arm. The orc came around to look at her the right way up. A massive foot stamped onto her hip and he lent down to look at her face.

"I can smell you fear," he snarled and his lips curled up like a dog's. Serafina's bound hands were in front of her chest. She could not help wondering what he meant by 'have her'. She remembered Boromir warning Aragorn, implying that she may be taken advantage of on her own. If that was what he meant by 'having her' she wished he would eat her alive instead. Suddenly she remembered her wits and began to struggle under the weight of the orc. He seemed to be amused by it and laughed at her in a disgusting guttural snigger.

Panic was taking her, and she knew it. Desperately she fought to keep a hold of her mind; otherwise she would lose her life. She continued to squirm is distress and the orc pulled out a dirty, rusty sword that looked like it had a lifetimes worth of killings splattered upon it in varying shades of black blood. He stood and drew the sword under her neck and her stomach revolted against the smell of it. It was like purifying flesh. Her only hope was her one dagger, and for that she needed him to be close. She stopped moving; squirming certainly wasn't going to work. She locked eyes with the beast and he squatted on top of her with a foot to one side, trapping her under him, between his legs. She could no longer feel her hip.

"What? Got no more fight in you?" he sounded disappointed. He brought his face so close to her so that she tasted his stink when she breathed. She needed to keep his face close to hers, or he would see what she was up to. Shaking her head, she tried to look up at him pleadingly.

"I make you squirm, make you wriggle, make you scream," he roared.

Serafina did not need to pretend to look scared as he said this. Her eye widened naturally at the sinister and cold threat, and he smiled his snarling smile at her fear. Sword still in one hand his other moved to the shoulder he'd grabbed earlier but his face didn't move away from hers. Her dress ripped more at her shoulder, she knew parts of it were torn off altogether and he watched her face as it turned different shades of horror. The rip he had made in her dress though served another purpose that she knew he was not expecting. With her bound hands she tore her smallest and most concealed dagger from it's hiding place in the middle of her chest. She twirled it around quickly in her hands and smiled at him in a snarl he would have been proud to wear. He looked at her in confusion for a moment before she moved swiftly. With all of the strength she could channel into her arms and hands she thrust the dagger into his face and pulled it out again. He roared but it was lost in the rabble still coming from the hoard of orc fighting over Pippin's stone. He knelt up away from her and she elbowed the sword out of his hand. She tried to sit up but he still had half of his weight on her hip.

Dripping with blood he knelt back over her drawing his own knife but Serafina was quicker; she thrust her small dagger into his temple. He twitched. She twisted it in like turning a crank, grunting with effort. A last gurgling sound came from him and he collapsed on top of her.

She took a few moments to try to compose herself, but time was precious. Hands still bound she pushed at the dead orc. But he was immovable. Nearly crying with desperation she rolled. Eventually the orc slipped off her the slightest amount so that she could wriggle free. She stood gingery. Her hip, she knew was badly bruised and the flesh around it would probably swell but if the bone was broken she would have known by now. She tested her shoulder, and found it to be much the same. Her dress was not unrepairable, but she had no needle or thread - it did not make her indecent but it exposed the already darkening skin. She looked down at the carcass of the orc. Her small dagger stuck out of its temple. She liked the way it looked there but she knew she would need it. With one final effort she yanked it out of its head.

Without looking back Serafina ran for the shelter of the trees, grateful to escape with her life.

#

Her mouth was dry; she had no food, no water and had followed the orcs for as far as she could see them. After they disappeared from her sight she stumbled onwards in the direction they had been heading. Aragorn, Gimli, Legolas and Boromir would be with Frodo and Sam, on their way to Mordor. She was the only hope Merry and Pippin had of survival, and she was failing them.

In vein she tried to push herself faster but her legs would only turn over so quickly without any energy to help them. She had been following the orcs since they left the place where she'd escaped and she was almost through her second night. They were beyond her now, but she refused to stop walking. There was nowhere else to go.

Before her she saw a darkness, blacker than the night. It grew as dawn approached. Underneath the dawn reddened sky she saw a vast forest and a fire burning brightly before it. With a last surge of determination she hastened towards the fire, hoping to find help or water.

When she reached the place of the fire she found a large company of horsemen and horses. The men were picking up the few remaining carcasses littering the ground. With a sudden spark of recognition Serafina identified the corpses as the orcs that had taken her captive. She stole her way to a small corpse. Orc. Casting her eye around quickly she saw another hobbit sized lump on the ground and ran to it. Orc. She was about to move on quickly again before the men saw her but something shiny caught her eye. She knelt down beside it and pulled the shiny thing from its hand. It was silver belt, identical to the ones that Merry and Pippin had been given from Lady Galadriel. Blood drained from her face; this was one of their belts. Where were the hobbits? Slowly she began to realise that if everything around them was dead, it was unlikely that they had survived. Could it be possible that they were killed in the battle? Or was it more probable that the stomachs of the orcs won out and they ate them before fulfilling their quest.

A shout brought her to her feet. Spears and pikes were being pointed at her on all sides. She lifted her hands in surrender; nothing mattered anymore.

#

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	36. Chapter 36

A/N: Any A/N's too long or not directly related to the chapter should be found on my Author Profile, along with pleas for you to not hate me if I can't update for a period of time.

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Enjoy!

#

Chapter Thirty-six

"Lord Éomer," called one of the men before her. He held a shinning spear to her breast and was watching her with a wary eye.

"What is it?" called a voice across the field of dead orcs.

"It's," he paused looking Serafina up and down and wrinkled his nose, "well it's a girl," he called back.

Serafina stood deadly still, eyes on the man pointing the closest spear at her. She kept her hands in the air wishing she'd had time to hide the silver belt.

A tall man came to stand beside the one who called. Judging by the way he held himself she assumed he was Lord Éomer. He looked her up and down. Forgetting herself she followed his eyes and looked down at her body. Her dress was filthy and had dark patches of orc blood and dirt making it appear a mottled texture, her cloak covered the bruise on her shoulder but with her arm's raised as they were she could see the tear in her dress and knew it was not escaping the eyes of the men in front of her. What shocked her the most was how poorly the dress seemed to fit her in comparison to a mere few days ago. The only thing that appeared undamaged was the leather pouch that still hung on her belt next to her empty sheaths. Slowly she was able to piece together a picture of what she must look like in their eyes: a filthy, half-wild, half-starved girl, only a few years younger than them perhaps, but far below them in status. To complete the picture she remembered they had found her crouching over the body of an orc.

She closed her eyes to collect herself before looking up once more; if it was truly over, if Merry and Pippin were dead, or even not dead, they were beyond her help, which meant she needed to find a place to live. Here she saw men clearly of Rohan; Rohan was as good a place as any and it was better than Gondor.

When she looked back up at Lord Éomer she caught a frightening glimpse of recognition in his eyes.

"Who are you?" he asked in the common tongue.

She didn't answer but kept her chin held high.

"Speak, girl!" he commanded. She thought he was probably not an unkind man, but she had no desire to stir his memory if indeed he recognised her from somewhere.

"Answer him, wench!" threatened the first man brandishing his spear closer to her. But she refused to flinch.

"Éothain, lower you weapon," commanded Éomer.

Instantly all of the weapons pointed at her were lowered. Éomer made an open gesture at her and smiled, "Now will you answer me? What is your name and your business?"

She lowered her hands feeling slightly giddy.

"No," she answered in the lowest, strongest and sanest voice she could muster, "I will not give you my name, not when I don't know who you are, or what right you had to point those at me," she nodded at the spears.

Éomer raised his eyebrows, but she saw his eyes flick to her belt where the sheaths lay empty. "You are not from these parts?" he asked.

"No," she answered slowly.

"Very well," he said reasonably, "I am Éomer son of Éomund, third Marshall of the Mark. It might interest you to know that in the Riddermark we do not rob the bodies of orcs. These are my men, or do you have need of all of their names before we continue?"

Appreciative sniggers sounded from the men. Serafina kept her face stony, but could not help fingering the silver belt in her hand.

"Your name, and your business," he prompted.

"Miyra. I have no business, other than trying to survive,"" she answered automatically, she didn't want to find out if the name Serafina held any weight in Rohan. She hoped the name Miyra would serve her better than last time.

"Why aren't you trying to survive in a village?" he asked with a smirk.

"I have travelled from the north,"

"With no companions?" he asked suspiciously.

"As you see me,"

"It is against the law of the King to let strangers walk in our lands,"

Serafina tried not to narrow her eyes. The man was trying her thin patience, "It would seem then, that I am walking in your King's land unlawfully,"

"If it is shelter you seek then you may be presented before the King and he may grant you freedom, or he will do with you as he chooses. You will travel with us to Edoras, regardless. Keep your trinket if you wish," he nodded at the belt in her hand half sneering, "Can you ride?"

She nodded with more confidence then she felt, and with perhaps to much vigour - her balance was thrown momentarily. Fortunately the Rohirrum did not notice for Éomer had begun walking around, shouting instructions at the men to prepare the horses. It seemed as though all of the orcs were piled and burning. The lord returned with a small, steady looking brown horse, saddle and bridle already in place.

"This is Festep. He will carry you to Edoras. And this," he said gesturing to a young man behind him, "is Asteard. He will be making sure you don't do anything you shouldn't,"

Serafina looked at the man. His blank expression reminded her forcefully of Heston. Asteard mounted his own horse with graceful ease. Éomer stood holding the reins of her horse, evidently waiting for her to mount.

Cringing inside she lifted a leg into her a stirrup. She had never been very good at mounting a horse, and this time she had a very bruised and swollen hip area that made walking slightly awkward. She wished she didn't have to mount it in front of all of these horsemen.

Gritting her teeth she swung herself up with all of her strength. Her leg nearly made it over the horses back but the timing was all wrong. Laughter exploded behind her and she swung ungracefully back off the horse, one foot still in the stirrup. Her hip was searing with pain, she fought desperately to not let the men see her weakness. A glance back at Éomer killed the laughter in his eyes and his face became serious.

"Alright men, on your horses!" he called to them, his voice carrying a chuckle she did not see in his expression, "Do you need some assistance?" he asked her.

Serafina glared at him and climbed awkwardly onto the horse without another look. The horse-lord handed her reins to Asteard and spoke to him in their language before leaving them. Within minutes every man was saddled and they were riding forth under the bright red morning.

#

As the sun sank into afternoon Serafina tried to keep her mind off her failure of Merry and Pippin. Like Olin, she knew she had the rest of her life to dwell, or regret if it came to it, but now all she wanted to do was focus on the positives and the next move. She smiled as she realised that all was not lost, she was far away from the rest of the Fellowship and their terrible quest. Frodo's face appeared in her mind, but instead of the resigned look of burden that he'd carried for the last while she saw a terrible look of sadness and accusation for the loss of his kinsman. She gritted her teeth.

"Positives," she mumbled to herself.

Casting a glance around at the surrounding horses and Horsemen and rugged landscape a feeling of familiarity settled on her. A frown creased her brow as she looked for the reason behind it. The wind blew her filthy hair around her face as she rode and brought with it the stench of blood and orc from her companions and undoubtedly her own clothing. Her eyes widened - this was the same sort of country as that where Legolas handed her Aragorn's ring in Galadriel's Mirror. Her stomach turned. A moment of panic sent her head whirling and she looked over her shoulder as if expecting to see Aragorn striding down a hill top in the distance or Legolas riding towards her, his hand outstretched with a ring catching the sunlight as he went.

With difficulty she settled her mind and loosened her hands from her horses mane. She was being unreasonable and she knew it. Aragorn, and Legolas were both far away with Frodo and Sam, Boromir and Gimli. And if the Rohirrum had destroyed the Orcs already then perhaps that future was lost forever like she had wished. It was true that there were no warg carcasses at the site of the battle but Aragorn and Legolas were not there so there had to be some room for differences.

Slowly, very slowly Serafina relaxed. If the battled where Aragorn had lost his life in the vision was fought and over then Serafina had succeeded. A small smiled appeared on her face, but it was short lived. Merry and Pippin had most likely paid for Aragorn's life with their own and although she was grateful for Aragorn's life, a small voice inside her lamented the loss of the friendships she had unwillingly begun with the Fellowship.

Realising finally how tired she was Serafina leant forward in her saddle. She didn't care what these men of Rohan thought; she was tired, starving and severely dehydrated and she had lost her only friends to a dangerous quest and to death - it was time to sleep.

#

Serafina felt ground underneath her and stirred groggily, wondering what she was doing lying in the dirt. She opened her eyes; she could see nothing in the brightness of the afternoon but a dark shape leaning over her. Unexpected fear coursed through her body and she closed her eyes immediately to feign unconsciousness; if the Orc suspected she was unconscious then maybe he would leave her alone. The dark shape blocked the sunlight that had been streaming onto her face. Her breath quickened. Her eyes flew open as a weight pressed onto her injured shoulder sending sharp pain through her body. She struggled with herself to not let a cry escape – she would not give him the satisfaction. Mercifully she found her hands unbound. Her right hand flew to the neckline of her dress and drew her dagger with as much speed as she could muster. In one fluid motion she stabbed straight at the middle of the creatures shaggy-haired head. She let her lips curl up into a snarl but her attacker twisted out of harms way just in time.

She heard yelling. Could the Orcs really still be arguing about Pippin's stone? She shook her head, something wasn't right. Again she aimed another stab at the creature but this time he caught her hands. Serafina panicked. She struggled against him but he had her wrists in his vice-like hands. There was to be no escape. Tears pricked her eyes and she dropped the dagger. The dark shape was yelling at her. She felt despair claw its tendrils around her mind and realised that she would never even see the face of the Orc that killed her because of her pitiful, weak tears. With one last surge of determination she tried to scratch the face of the creature with dirty torn nails, her hands together in his grasp and she kicked and squirmed in desperation.

"Serafina!" grunted her attacker as he dodged another kick.

She stopped struggling instantly. How did the orc know her name? She tried to rip her hands from his grasp but it was useless.

"Fia, it's me!" the voice pleaded desperately.

There was something about the quality of the voice that was familiar, but not familiar like the voice of an orc. It was familiar like the voice of a friend. Her eyes were still unable to make out the face of the attacker so instead she looked at where his hand held her wrists fast. The hand could not have belonged to an orc; it was unmistakably human. It belonged to a man. Something shiny caught her eye. On the forefinger of the man's hand was a ring, so familiar she knew she would never forget how brightly the emerald green eyes of the serpents shone.

Her eyes snapped up to the man's face as silence settled on the group. Dread filled her. Aragorn released her wrists as soon as she met his gaze. She looked around herself in utter confusion. The faces of Éomer and his men looked down at her in surprise and worry. Her eyes returned to Aragorn and beside him appeared two more familiar faces. Legolas and Gimli wore matching expressions of concern. Aragorn extended a hand to her. She looked down and saw the dagger she had just tried to stab him with. He was giving it back. Numbly she took it from him and slowly put it away, out of sight, as her mind scrambled to keep up. What was he doing here? Where were the others? Did this mean that the vision she had seen was not prevented, if so how was she to get away from him now?

Éomer's voice broke the stream of insistent questions running through her head,

"Éothain, assemble the men," he instructed without taking his eyes off Serafina. Within minutes the five of them were alone.

Aragorn moved swiftly to her side and helped her to her feet. She swayed unsteadily. He mumbled something unintelligible and predictably moved directly to her shoulder to inspect her injury. Instantly she turned her head away from him, but this did not prevent the warmth of his breath brushing over her collarbone. His hands were gentle as they traced the outline of the bruise and gently pressed the tender skin. Despite his usual steadiness she could have sworn she saw his hands shake for a moment.

"Orcs?" he asked darkly, rearranging her ripped dress to best cover her shoulder.

She nodded in answer and took a step back from him to clear her head, "What are you doing here?"

"Looking for you, and Merry and Pippin," he answered as if it were obvious.

Serafina felt her stomach drop at the mention of the hobbits but said, "Where are the others?"

Aragorn gave her a warning look, "We became separated," he said cryptically.

"You left Boromir alone with them?" she hissed, "What were you thinking?"

Her stomach flipped as Aragorn grabbed her waist and pulled her in close whispering harshly in her ear, "Do not forget the secrecy of the quest,"

But his harsh tone was lost on Serafina, his left hand grazed her bruised and swollen hip and she cried out in agony, stumbling away from him. Legolas steadied her. She ignored him. Aragorn took a step towards them indicating to her hip.

"Leave it," she all but growled.

He frowned but didn't continue.

"Boromir of Gondor?" came a voice Serafina had momentarily forgotten.

She looked up to see Éomer watching them curiously. He was looking between each face, a deeper frown passed over his brow as he looked over Aragorn and Legolas. Serafina followed his gaze and caught a concerned look passing between the two.

"Yes," began Aragorn, "We travelled with him to Gondor, but now we mourn his loss," he locked eyes with Serafina, who squinted at him, not understanding. Aragorn continued in a sombre tone, "he died defending Merry and Pippin, the Halflings we seek, against the Uruk-Hai you destroyed in the night,"

"That is a loss," said Éomer, "and I am saddened to hear it…"

Serafina stopped listening. Her mind struggled to keep up. Boromir dead? She could hardly fathom it, there must be some mistake, some secret that Aragorn wished to keep from Éomer.

She looked over at Aragorn dismissing the news of Boromir as a farce. He was now deeply engaged in conversation with Éomer. She wondered if she should tell him what she thought of Merry and Pippin, her hand went unconsciously to her belt pouch where she had hidden the silver belt she'd found with the dead orc.

Éomer's voice broke into her thoughts "So she travelled with you?"

"Yes she has been travelling with us until the Uruks took her," Aragorn answered without looking at her.

"And her name is Serafina, not Miyra,"

"Yes her name is Serafina,"

"I see," he said staring at her with his piercing eyes, "She was robbing the carcasses of orcs when we found her. She is a thief, and not a very clever one at that. I have never heard of anyone robbing a dead orc,"

"I think you would have found, had you asked, that she was searching for our friends," Legolas said fiercely.

"Do you not think, Elf that we did not try to discover her purpose here?" Éomer replied angrily, "She gave us lies for answers claiming she was travelling alone from the north and that her name was Miyra. As yet I have no reason to believe that she is worth the toll on the horse she rides. She appears to be more trouble than she is worth,"

"Well then, it is good to see you haven't changed," muttered Gimli to her.

"Why did you lie?" demanded Éomer.

Serafina did not answer but looked to Aragorn for help. What could she say that would not incriminate herself further?

"Maybe the lass gave you a false name because she didn't know if she could trust a herd of horsemen," interjected Gimli moving to stand in front of her protectively.

"That's enough," said Aragorn sharply and he took a step towards Éomer. His expression was dark and he began talking with the Horse Lord in hushed tones. Serafina could not hear a word of the conversation, she could only see him looking between her and Éomer gesturing as he spoke and bringing his palms together in a pleading gesture. Realising the Elf would be able to hear the conversation she looked up behind her into Legolas' face, hoping to be able to discern some of the discussion from his expression. But his face was blank. Certainly he was listening but Serafina knew the last thing Legolas would want to do would be to extend any knowledge of something to her.

"Here lass," came a gruff voice from below her.

She looked down to see Gimli offering her a water skin and she took it gratefully. The Rohirrum had given her some water, but hardly enough to make up for the past few days of dehydration.

"You look terrible," he said smirking.

She smiled weakly, taking a long swig.

"You gave us a right scare lassie," he huffed, "Let me tell you that is the last time I chase you across Middle Earth. If we'd have found you dead I would have taken your mangled body to the Necromancer himself and had you revived so that I could kill you for the trouble you caused,"

Serafina handed the water skin back to him, "I'm flattered,"

"You shouldn't be. I've never seen that one," he nodded at Aragorn, "grimmer than when we found your sword, daggers and rucksack lying in the tracks of the orcs,"

"We'd just farewelled Boromir and set off after the Uruks to rescue Merry and Pippin when we found them. We feared for your life sorely," said Legolas.

Serafina shifted her weight uncomfortably wondering at the second reference to Boromir's death, and swayed precariously. Gimli steadied her and she kept a hand resting on his shoulder for support. Legolas produced a piece of Lembas bread out of nowhere.

"Eat," he said, his attention once again caught by the two men talking quietly but urgently.

She obeyed obligingly.

"Did you ever see them?" Gimli asked suddenly.

"See who?"

"The hobbits, lass," he said impatiently.

She swallowed, stalling. Her hand went again to her pouch. "I saw them once, when I escaped. They were alive when I left, they helped me," she paused looking down, "that was a few days ago now,"

The three of them looked down, Serafina couldn't bring herself to tell them her fears, but she thought she didn't need to. They probably feared the same.

They stood in silence waiting for Aragorn and Éomer to finish discussing their business. She watched the two of them talk. Eventually their tones grew louder to the volume of a normal conversation. She heard Éomer asking for Aragorn to come to Edoras, explaining the sickness of his uncle the King. Misgivings settled upon her, but she pushed them aside. Soon the words drifted over her and she found herself studying Aragorn. He seemed changed, altered somehow. She wondered if it was the toll of the pursuit that had changed him, but he seemed only slightly more worn than normal.

She ran her eyes over his face and his body, grateful for the safe distance between them and soon compared him to Éomer. She was shocked at how common the horse-lord looked next to him. She turned back to Aragorn and saw that he no longer held himself like a ranger; he looked like a king.

A deep flush coursed through he body and her insides sank. How could this be the man she had seen in that vision? A terrible moment of self-pity washed over her, and she hardened her resolve to keep him at a distance.

"I can offer you horses," Éomer said as the two of the walked towards herself, Legolas and Gimli.

Aragorn opened his mouth to speak looking at Serafina but she interrupted before he could answer, "I'm not coming with you," she said warningly.

He looked at her quizzically, "No, you're not. You can barely stand. Lord Éomer has agreed to look out for you - " Serafina opened her mouth to argue but Aragorn held up a hand to silence her, "He has agreed to look out for you at least until we return with Merry and Pippin," he paused then added "or with news of them. You are to travel on to Edoras as planned, we will find you there,"

Serafina could only nod in response, unable to think of anything to say.

Suddenly there was commotion as Gimli and Legolas engaged Éomer in heated conversation. She rolled her eyes when she heard mention of Lady Galadriel, but lost her balance again when Gimli took a step away from her. Aragorn caught her arm.

"You are unsteady," he said in a low voice.

"I'm tired," she said dismissively.

"I heard you mention the hobbits while I was speaking with Éomer,"

She wrinkled her nose in annoyance but nodded sadly, "They were alive when I escaped,"

"But you do not hold to hope," he concluded.

Her hand flicked to her pouch again. She tired to cover by resting her hand on her hip, but ended up cringing in pain from the pressure on her bruise. Aragorn frowned at her.

"What aren't you telling me?" he said taking her hand from her hip. She flushed at the contact but slipped her hand out of his. Sighing she opened the pouch and pulled out the silver belt.

"I found this," she whispered unable to look at him, "at the battle field. It was in the hands of a dead orc,"

Aragorn took the belt from her and ran it through his hands. She looked up into his face and saw momentary despair followed by a steely resolve. His eyes met hers with a fierce passion, "There is still hope," he insisted pressing the belt back into her hands, "Never loose sight of it,"

She looked at him trying to keep the helplessness out of her eyes.

"Fia," he said bringing a hand to her face.

"No," she uttered weakly, taking a step away from him.

He turned his head to the side and squinted at her in the sunlight, as if trying to make her out. She felt her insides squirm but steadied herself as best she could and straightened her back. He cocked an eyebrow at her but said nothing. Instead he drew out of his pack her sword and daggers that he had carried with him. He handed them to her wordlessly.

With nothing else to do Serafina concentrated on sheathing her weapons, conscious that all conversation between the men had stopped.

"She carries a curious amount of daggers," commented Éomer.

"There is only one that I am thankful for," Aragorn murmured darkly.

Serafina looked up and Éomer asked, "And which one is that?"

"The one the Uruk-Hai didn't find,"

"The one she attacked you with? You jest, surely,"

"No, it is the one that certainly saved her life," he answered.

She searched his face as she stood there. He must have found the Orc she killed. She wondered how he knew she killed him, but then remembered he was a ranger and would have read her tracks leading away from the dead body.

She noticed Éomer looking between the two of them and busied herself rechecking her weapons. Legolas and Gimli mounted a horse, she smiled at how ridiculous the dwarf looked hanging on behind Legolas. Aragorn nodded to her in farewell and turned to his own horse. Despair assailed her once more. Desperately she tried to find some of the hope that Aragorn had bid her to hold on to.

Something itched at her mind, a tiny spark of possibility. Eyes wide she rushed to Aragorn's side, and grabbed his hand before he could mount the horse. Startled by her actions he looked at her with a bemused expression. She looked back at where Éomer stood a few metres away and wondered if he could overhear.

She turned to Aragorn and looked at him imploringly, hoping desperately he would dismiss her rash behaviour. She pulled his hand down by her side, holding it with her left hand. Lifting herself up on tiptoes she steadied herself with her right hand on his shoulder so that their bodies were almost flush against each other. With her head snaked in close to his neck she hoped Aragorn's head blocking hers from Éomer's view would be enough to prevent him from hearing her words or reading her lips. She took a deep breath, and tried desperately to ignore how close to him she was.

"If there is any hope," she whispered against his neck, unable to whisper in his ear without him bending, "if they are not dead,"

"Fia, what -" he began.

"They told me that the only reason they wanted them alive was because they thought, or Saruman thinks they have the ring,"

"We thought as much," he agreed matching her hushed tone.

A thrill ran down her spine at the feeling of his breath on her skin and the sound of his voice in her ear sent goose bumps down her arms. She gripped his hand and shoulder tighter to try to keep herself on task.

"If they are not dead, then maybe some of the," she stumbled on the word, "Uruks," she paused again, "maybe some of them escaped the battle and took them on to Isengard,"

"I will not lie to you, Éomer is adamant that none of the Uruks escaped. But," he said drawing her in closer with his left hand high on her waist, "that does not mean that hope is lost, there are other ways they could have escaped,"

Serafina sank a little on her toes.

"Do not despair!" he whispered fervently, "I will find them,"

She nodded against his neck and he tightened his hold on her hand. She squeezed back and straightened her spine once more. She knew if she could, she would need to escape Éomer before Aragorn returned, another desperate bid to evade the future. If she succeeded this would be the last time she saw him. She swallowed and hoped he would be all right, that Merry and Pippin were all right. He would find them.

"Then that is the hope I hold to," she whispered with as much confidence and conviction as she could muster.

Lowering herself back to her normal height she stepped away from him. He lifted a hand halfway to her face and then dropped it, as if thinking better of it. A pang of disappointment shot through her but she ignored it and watched as he mounted his horse with ease. She blushed remembering how terrible she was at that action.

Once mounted, he looked down at her and nodded solemnly his grey eyes searing into her own. She nodded back quickly then looked away and waved at Gimli and Legolas as they bid her farewell.

Watching them ride away her mind dissolve into turmoil. Her thoughts flitted between confusion and disbelief at finding Aragorn so close when she had thought him so far away, and not knowing if Merry and Pippin were alive or not. With a jolt she wondered what they were meaning by talking about Boromir's death, and why Aragorn left Frodo and Sam to find her, Merry and Pippin.

Remembering herself she noticed that Éomer was standing next to her watching the two horses ride away.

"That was some show you put on for my men," he commented vaguely.

"It was no show," she answered jutting out her chin.

"I was not aware that you and the heir of Isildur were so," he paused looking for the word, "close,"

"We aren't," she said nonchalantly, "I was saying goodbye,"

"But they intend to return," he said raising his voice in alarm.

"But I do not intend to stay,"

"I don't really care what you intend, girl. You will ride with my men to Edoras and I will present you before my King,"

Serafina scowled at him, "Of course,"

"On your horse girl," he said as his men rode towards them, "I have a feeling you really will be more trouble than you're worth,"

Serafina smiled despite herself, she was determined to be just that.

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Please review!


	37. Chapter 37

A/N: Sorry for the (very) extended delay. Olena, you, and readers like you are the reason I write. Thank you.

R&R

Enjoy!

#

Chapter Thirty-seven

Serafina urged her horse forward clumsily in the growing darkness as Éomer beckoned. The rest of the riders had already disbanded as they rode up the sloping roads of Edoras. The afternoon had consisted of little else other than riding and a failed escape attempt that resulted in her falling off her horse and very nearly being trampled by the other horses.

Éomer led her inside a stable. She dismounted awkwardly and turned to face the horse-lord.

"Take this - rub it into your face,"

She looked down at what he was holding out in his hands and started as she made out the shape in the gloom, "That's horse manure!"

"Rub it in," he repeated evenly.

"If you think that insisting is going to make me to rub -"

"I think that if I want to secure the allegiance of your Ranger then I need to ensure your safety,"

"By rubbing manure in my face" she said dryly and continued in a lower tone, "Aragorn is not my Ranger, and your allegiance with him is irrelevant to me,"

Éomer frowned and looked down before bringing his eyes back up to pierce hers with dislike, "I might have guessed as much," his voice dripping in unexplained irony. "He is not your Ranger, he is your path to the throne of Gondor. I know your type, but don't think I can't play your game. What is it that you want?"

She clenched her jaw at his accusations. Looking him straight in the eye she gave him his answer, "I want to get as far away from _my_ heir to Gondor's throne as possible," she bit scornfully, "You have nothing that I need to make me stay, you have only your own goals to satisfy,"

Serafina turned away from him and smiled spitefully to herself as she made her way on foot towards the entrance of the stable. Before she took three steps something slid around her neck from behind and cool metal pressed on her throat.

"Then here is how I will satisfy them," he said in her ear as he pressed the sword into her skin along the flat edge. He turned her around and pushed her against a wooden pillar with the sword still threatening. His eyes were dangerous in the darkness and she felt the chill of fear close in on her.

Éomer leant in close, whispering harshly, "You might not need me, but I need you. If you will not help out of your own charity then I will use you for my own purpose. I need Aragorn's allegiance, I need his help. Rohan may fall to ruin, but I will fight for it. For Aragorn's trust I need to keep you safe until he returns, what you do after that moment is irrelevant to me. Do you understand?"

Serafina narrowed her eyes but inclined her head a mere inch to indicate her comprehension. He did not remove his sword.

"I do not see the need for manure," she said bitterly.

"Short of me presenting you before my uncle with a sack over your head, we have no other option,"

"A sack?! For what purpose?,"

"It's best to be cautious," he said evasively.

Serafina rolled her eyes, "If caution is your game you should not call me Serafina,"

Éomer laughed but otherwise ignored her comment, "You will rub the manure onto your face, or I will do it for you. The more repulsive you are, the less likely they will take an interest in you,"

"And dirt will not suffice?" she asked tartily.

His face screwed up in rage and Serafina felt something damp and pungent smeared onto her face. He grinned nastily at her, "Rohan soil is too precious to be wasted on you. Manure suits you well. Now rub it in and I will introduce you to the King,"

Serafina followed the man as he led her out of the stable and towards the Golden Hall. She tried desperately to rub the majority of the manure off her face but seemed to only succeed in making the coverage even. Her nose was permanently wrinkled at the smell but she kept her back straight; trying desperately to feel less repugnant than she smelt.

Trudging behind him she took no notice of the things she passed. At the doors of the hall a man instructed her to remove her weapons. Éomer watched her pull out each of the daggers from it's sheath and she eyed him defiantly. Her hand hesitated at her chest, knowing that the man knew of the dagger but a small, sharp sideways movement of the horse-lord's head made her drop her hand. She gave him a questioning look but he offered her no explanation and told the warden that that was all. She quickly cast her gaze to the man ladened with her daggers and saw disgust and pity in is eyes as he tried not to look at her.

Inside the hall was dark. Éomer walked in front but kept his pace slow and steady indicating to her to stay close to him as they walked the length of the building. When they reached the far end of the hall Serafina stopped half a step behind Éomer and cast her eye upon the throne before her. Upon it sat an old man, wrinkled and filthy. She wondered when the last time was that the man had washed properly - certainly it wasn't recently. It was her own stench though that kept her face sour rather than the undignified appearance of the old King.

"My King," began Éomer bowing his head, "I have returned and I bring news,"

Serafina's eye widened as the old man wheezed a word that she could not decipher. Strong footsteps sounded to her right and she turned to watch a beautiful young woman who appeared to be of a similar age as Serafina hurry to the King's side. Her blonde hair was like a curtain of sunshine. Serafina felt a hot surge of dislike race through her as she watched the maiden look tenderly upon the King.

"Uncle," the woman said softly to the King, "Uncle, my brother is returned. He has news for you,"

"Then he should tell it," said a sly voice from the hall in the direction the maiden had entered.

Serafina's head whipped around to see a pale man walk in. She felt his eyes pass over her as though she were dirt and come to rest on the Éomer.

"What news do you bring, and what is that thing by your side?" he asked with a snake like hiss.

His eyes looked somehow cold, she tried to repress a shiver as she looked at him.

"This is Serafina, she is a friend seeking refuge until her companions return for her," said Éomer.

"Serafina?" asked the maiden curiously.

"What companions?" asked the pale man talking over the top of her.

"We met a small party on the planes. They have some business to attend to and will come before the week is through,"

"They walk on Rohan soil? Unaccompanied, without permission?" he asked with a sly smile.

"They have my leave,"

"You do not have that kind of authority, Éomer son of Éomund,"

"They gave their word. They are friends,"

"Friends," hissed the repulsive man, "What a slimy word. Many times friends turn to foe. Do you not agree my King?"

Serafina watched as Théoden nodded weakly, though no comprehension was seen in his face, and she felt Éomer tense at her side, "Yes, and sometimes they turn to snakes," he said through gritted teeth. "You would know this better than anyone, would you not Wormtongue?" hatred was practically spitting from his mouth.

Prying her gaze from Éomer and the man called Wormtongue, she noticed the maiden had not taken her eye off her.

"You should watch your words, Éomer. It would not do to see you -" began Wormtongue.

"Brother? What did you say her name was?" the maiden interrupted, walking towards them. Her stomach sank in trepidation.

"Her name is Serafina, Éowyn,"

"Why is she so filthy?" she asked with distain.

Serafina's nose curled in dislike, "I could ask the same of your King!" she spat at the girl rashly. Éomer cringed. Wormtongue looked at her for the first time and watched attentively. Éowyn took a step towards her.

"Serafina. Serafina of Gondor?" asked Éowyn, with a keen look in her eyes.

"Serafina of Bree," she answered with a coldly.

"Brother, do you not think she -"

"Éowyn, tell me of Théodred," interrupted Éomer, "How does he fare?"

Éowyn's demeanour change instantly and Serafina watched repressed emotions surface in her features.

"I will take you to him," she said with a sad strength and turned to leave.

"No my Lady," said Wormtongue descending onto them like a scavenger, "there is still yet business to be attended to before you visit the sick,"

"He is not sick, he is dying," she spat defiantly.

"What is the new your bring Lord Éomer?" he asked turning from the sister to the brother with an awful smile.

Éowyn looked away from the men and her eyes rested on Serafina once more and her eyes narrowed.

"You look familiar. Who is your mother?" Éowyn asked abruptly before Éomer could answer.

"I have never known my mother. You would not know her either. She was Gondorian. Not some wench from Rohan." Serafina retorted.

"So you are Serafina of Gondor!" She exclaimed triumphantly, "I knew there was something I recognised, it must be the name!"

"Serafina of Gondor? The thief child?" asked Wormtongue, his eyes narrowing in delight. He smiled at her as she shifted her weight, "Look how she squirms,"

Éomer head turned towards her but Serafina knew she couldn't wait to see his expression. She sprinted for the door as fast as her legs could carry her but blackness enveloped her before she made it half the length of the Hall.

#

Serafina woke on the cold floor with a stiff back and an aching head. Hunger registered in the back of her mind but she tried to ignore it. Her surroundings were dimly lit with the weak golden glow of torchlight in a room that had never seen the radiance of the sunshine. Around her were bars. Thick iron bars. She was in a cell.

With instant terror she flung herself at the doorway and searched for the lock.

"It's no use," came a tired voice to her left.

She spun around and saw Éomer in the adjacent cell. Her back arched at the sight of him but she didn't answer. Her hands found the lock - it seemed simple enough.

"Do you see those steps there?" he asked with gruff exasperation.

Serafina looked up and saw the outline of a stone stairway leading up into darkness. Dismissing it, she started searching her pockets for pins to pick the lock.

"That is the only entrance or exit to these cells. The doorway is but a few feet wide and it is guarded by two of my uncle's men. There is nothing else down here apart from a few empty cadges like these ones. Picking the lock won't help you."

Her mouth was so dry and parched she couldn't answer him straight away. Angrily she swallowed as best she could and spoke with more harshness than intended, "What then do you suggest we do?"

"Wait," he said with more patience than she believed of him.

"What an excellent plan," she said snidely.

"We wait for your ranger,"

"Aragorn?" she asked flatly.

"He is our only hope,"

"Why are you here?" she asked changing the topic.

"Because my uncle's reign is being commandeered by a slippery snake of a man. He can no longer recognises me as a friend," Bitterness and hurt resonated in his voice and Serafina's nose turned up at the sound. She refused to feel pity for him.

"There must be a way out,"

"I assure you there is not. If they catch you, they may send you to Minas Tirith," he paused watching her reaction, "We await Aragorn."

Regret for not convincing Éomer to use a fake name coursed through her. He hadn't recognised Serafina, but Éowyn and the man called Wormtongue had. Waiting for Aragorn was not an option, and neither was Gondor.

"You are certain Aragorn will come?" she asked.

"You are not?" he asked quickly.

"What would bring him here?"

"His word alone will hold him accountable. Do you have reason to doubt it?"

The suggestion that Aragorn's word could be doubted was so preposterous that it almost made her laugh. She caught herself quickly though and her heart sank when she realised she was trying to make Éomer doubt him. Disgusted with herself she shrugged noncommittally in answer, hoping he would fill in her silence with his own doubts.

"Look thief," he said. She cringed at the name. "I don't know what is between the two of you -"

"There is nothing between us," she interrupted harshly.

"Yet you are so anxious to leave," he said with a smirk, then continued more seriously, "Aragorn may be our only hope of leaving these cells,"

"I had always planned to be far away by the time he arrives,"

"Lover's quarrel?"

She threw him a filthy look. He, however was unaffected.

"I saw the way you looked at him and the glow on your cheeks after you said goodbye. If you want my opinion-"

"I don't want your opinion," she spat harshly, but a heavy blush set in her cheeks.

Éomer lifted his hands in surrender but continued, "So you would prefer to be taken to Denethor and made to answer for your crimes rather than be released from your cell by the Heir of Isildur?"

She jutted out her chin, "There is a chance I could escape the men on the way to Gondor,"

"Yes you could escape with your superior husbandry skills," he laughed. "No, your options are either Gondor or Aragorn."

"You should have used a false name," she mumbled angrily.

"For you?" he asked surprised, "I had no knowledge that your name was known by any, least of all that it was known because you killed the chief advisor of Denethor when you were but a foal,"

"Your sister knew,"

"Yes she did, she has a memory for that kind of thing. As women do. It would have made no difference to our situation in any case,"

"I disagree," she said through clenched teeth.

"Do you?" he asked, clearly aggravated at her hostility, "If I had used your name Miyra, I guarantee we would find ourselves exactly where we are now. They would have taken you prisoner regardless, for you travelled with me and you make a nice hostage to ensure your friends come to find you."

"But if they didn't know who I was, they wouldn't be threatening to send me to Minas Tirith if I escape,"

"That point is moot, you can not escape,"

A heavy clunk sounded from the top of the stairway. She swung her head in the direction of the sound and watched as a pair of boots descended the steps until a man stood in front of her offering a small plate of bread and a watery looking soup with a pitcher of water. She took it from him without a word and retreated to the furthest corner of her cell to eat in silence.

The silence between the prisoners continued and Éomer became increasingly more agitated as the time wore on. Eventually the horse-lord fell into a deep sleep. She watched him snore quietly as he slept sitting almost upright against the wall of the cell. She disliked him, that was certain. But he had allowed her to keep her last dagger - she hadn't needed to use it yet, but looking at the state that Edoras was in, she was grateful for it nonetheless.

Now that night had probably fallen Serafina began entertaining ideas of escape. She could pick the lock easily enough, but the issue was the guards at the top of the stairs, and whatever it was that lay beyond. One dagger was not enough to escape, she knew that she could not hold her own for long with such a small weapon, especially with an unknown number of assailants. And if she was caught, which she had to admit was likely, they could send her to Minas Tirith. Even Serafina had to admit that there weren't a lot of options.

Frustratedly she gave up and yanked the books out of her pouch; somehow she needed to distract herself from what would happen when Aragorn arrived.

Voices broke Serafina's slumber. She sat up groggily in time to see Éomer's cell being opened. Trying desperately to make out the words being spoken it took her almost a full minute to realise they were not speaking in the common tongue. She glared at Éomer as if he had purposefully spoken Rohirric to prevent her from being privy to their conversation. Éomer nodded to her as he made his way out of the cell and up the stairs, but he called something out to the guards before leaving. Serafina assumed it was a slight on her and set her face into a permanent scowl.

Why was Éomer suddenly freed? Could it be that Aragorn had arrived already? Serafina's stomach did a sickening flip. She sat motionless in her cell, wondering weather she should feign sleep. If Aragorn had arrived she would know soon - he wouldn't keep her waiting.

Soon enough their were footsteps on the stairs. The feet though did not belong to Aragorn, nor to Gimli or even Legolas, but to three women who each had a distinct no-nonsense look about them. The first was large and stern, the second tall and grim, the other was short and stocky. They each carried a large steaming basin of water and had cloth draped over their arms.

Serafina stood abruptly and backed to the corner of her cell. The women let themselves in and stood facing her. The largest set her basin on the ground and turned to Serafina.

"We're under strict instructions to wash you, as you are not be let out of this cell. Lord Éomer said you wouldn't give trouble," she said warningly looking her up and down.

Serafina swallowed and tried not to cower before the intimidating women - it had been a long time since she had had anything to do with women. Pulling herself together and jutting out her chin she nodded curtly.

"Good then, off with your clothes,"

Gritting her teeth Serafina tried desperately to think of the positives, in a short amount of time she would be clean and no longer smelling of orc blood and horse manure. That surely was a good thing.

Turning away from them she stripped carefully, ensuring her dagger was safely hidden in her leather pouch from Galadriel. When she turned to face them she saw a ghost of pity cross their faces. Looking down Serafina saw why; her body was overly thin, almost shrivelled and covered in bruises and welts.

Her legs seemed relatively unscathed, only thin with a smattering of light bruising. But everything above was frightful. Her arms looked like twisted twigs, her right wrist looked disfigured from scarring in the low light and her left shoulder was a brilliant shade of purple. When she looked at it she could actually make out the handprint of the orc in her flesh, it was slightly darker than the rest of the bruise and scarily large. She shivered. Looking down, she saw her hip bones protruding like they do on a famished child that has never had a hearty meal, but she was unable to decide if the shape or the colour was worse. The bruise was at it's deepest on top of her right hip bone. From there it stretched around almost to her navel changing colour from deepest black to purple, blue, green and eventually petering out to a sickly looking yellow.

The stocky woman walked over to her and led her gently towards the basins. It was all she could do to stop herself from wondering when this nightmare would end.

She sat alone in her cell, clean and dressed back into her clothes which had also been washed, dried and mended. After spending all of what she presumed to be the afternoon wrapped in blankets she had distracted herself by practicing her reading and writing. Relief flooded over her when the fat woman brought her clothes back to her. Her body looked even worse now that her skin was clean, for the bruises looked fresh and contrasted starkly against her skin.

Aragorn had been in Edoras for what she estimated to be most of the day and it was now very late in the evening. The first sign of his presence was Éomer's departure from the cell. For hours afterwards Serafina had been on edge wondering when her turn would come, would he come down to find her himself, or would she be sent for by the King like Éomer? But nothing had happened.

Snippets of gossip did reach her ears though from above the stairs. The man called Wormtongue had fled, and Aragorn had saved his life. Serafina thought it a pity, the snake probably deserved to die, but she was pleased enough that he was gone. More disturbingly though there was a rumour about a wizard travelling with them. Some just said it was rumour but Serafina felt uneasy. Could it be Saruman?

However the worst of the rumours going around was that she was to be used as a bargaining tool. The guards didn't mind sharing this little piece of information with her when they made the trip down into the cell to check on her, they knew it frightened her. Relations between Rohan and Gondor had been growing thin, and with war approaching Rohan wanted Gondor to be indebted to them. Serafina, they had said, would make an excellent gift to the Steward of Gondor.

The hours stretched on. Eventually she was able to distract herself from the rumours toying with her mind and focus all of her attention on the books Galadriel had given her. She was making slow, but steady progress. Deeply absorbed in a poem about the beauty of Lothlorien a gruff voice from the stairway jolted her mind back to the present. She stuffed her books back into her pocket and walked to the front of her cell to get the best look at her visitors.

"Where is she? Where's the girl we chased over 40 leagues who lands herself in a cell the moment she enters the realm of Men?"

"Did you expect differently Gimli?" came a fair voice in reply, "I expected nothing less" he added in an undertone.

The elf and dwarf came into view and Serafina felt a distinct lightening in spirit. In their arms they carried trays of food and drink, much more than she had been given in all of her pervious meals combined.

"You Lassie," Gimli began, addressing her directly as he came to stand in front of her, "have been nothing but trouble. Do you have any idea of the situation we are trying to get you out of?"

Serafina raised an eyebrow at the dwarf playfully, "The cell?" she asked.

"Don't you get smart with me Lass," warned the dwarf gruffly.

"I heard the rumours," she said straightening her back as if to appear unconcerned, "They're thinking of sending me to Minas Tirith?"

It was Legolas' turn to raise an eyebrow at her nonchalance, "Yes, they are." He paused looking her up and down, "Théoden King and his niece Éowyn have no love for you. Éomer defends you, though I cannot fathom his reasons," he said questioningly.

"He wants Aragorn's allegiance," she answered unconcernedly.

Legolas looked unconvinced, "No matter the reason you're future is still undecided while other, more pressing matters are discussed,"

"What pressing matters?" she asked frustratedly.

"We received news today that a band of Uruk-Hai are heading this way," he paused gauging her reaction. Serafina gritted her teeth, desperate to not appear scared. Legolas continued, "There is still some debate as to how to -"

Serafina had to interrupt him, she did not want to talk about the large orcs that haunted her sleep. "Merry and Pippin?" she asked abruptly.

Legolas frowned for the interruption but Gimli smiled grimly, "Our search was not in vain, they are alive. We did not see them though and I'm not convinced they are in the best of company,"

Legolas frowned at the dwarf then addressed Serafina, "Gandalf trusts them, that should be enough."

"Merry and Pippin are with people who were friends of Gandalf's? How do you know this if you did not see them?" she asked impatiently.

"We saw Gandalf," answered Legolas simply.

Serafina looked from Legolas to Gimli in utter confusion, "How? In a vision? Gandalf is dead," she said flatly.

"He lives," countered Legolas.

Serafina glowered at him, as she spat "How dare you! First Boromir is dead, now Gandalf lives?! Would you spin me such lies in front of Aragorn?"

Legolas and Gimli looked at each other uncomfortably. Serafina's chest was heaving and she was struggling to contain her frustration. Attempting to gather herself she looked at her two visitors, they seemed to be having a silent war between themselves. After a moment it appeared Gimli won.

"Serafina," began Legolas tentatively, "Boromir-" but whatever he was going to say remained unsaid as the door above them burst open.

"Where is she?! Serafina!"

Serafina took a couple of involuntary steps back, she had never heard that tone from him before - not so strongly. Panic sounded out of place in Aragorn's voice. He called her name again as he rushed down the stairs.

His footsteps were followed closely by another's, "Aragorn!" cried Éomer.

Aragorn reached the bottom of the stairs and came into view. Serafina's eyes were wide with alarm. Aragorn relaxed visibly when he saw her but his face held a curious expression. He strode to her cell, Legolas and Gimli stepping back out of his way. Serafina flushed in his presence. He was slightly out of breath from exertion and his eyes were dark in the low light.

"Fia," he gestured to her, "Come here."

Serafina hesitated but stepped awkwardly towards him. Her discomfort was clear on her face.

He grabbed her waist with his right hand as soon as she was within arms length and pulled her toward him, only the iron bars separated them. Serafina straightened her back but Aragorn took no notice. He grabbed her chin and pulled it up to face him. His eyes searched her face as if taking in ever inch of her.

"Uncanny, isn't it" said Éomer, but it wasn't a question.

Aragorn did not reply. Instead he grabbed her right hand and lifted her arm up to the light to examine it. Slowly he started to relax.

Serafina swallowed, "Aragorn, what…?"

But it wasn't her he answered, "What does this mean Éomer?"

"That is not a discussion for this place," he answered swiftly.

Aragorn turned his attention back to her face. She was know so red that she was sure her face looked like a beacon, he didn't seem to notice. He brought his hand back up and held her head, his fingers burying themselves in her hair at the nape of her neck. He took some deep breaths in, closing his eyes. Serafina shifted uncomfortably as Gimli, Legolas and Éomer looked on.

"Lord Aragorn, my uncle waits," said Éomer, clearly signalling that the purpose of the visit was attained and time was not to be wasted.

Aragorn drew Serafina in slightly, eyes still closed. Serafina swallowed again, trying to keep her composure. He rested his head on her forehead. Indulgently she closed her eyes, unable to work out the meaning of such a visit that was evidently almost over. She tried to keep her mind present but it was little use. Her mind was racing with memories of their goodbyes and the visions from Galadriel's mirror. Was he saying goodbye to her? Would she indeed be sent off to Minas Tirith?

A sudden surge of anger coursed through her. How could he do this? She ripped his hands off from her neck and stepped away from him. Furious that he would deign to visit her as a parting gesture she opened her mouth to tell him exactly what she thought of his visit. Before she could speak, he reached into her cell and placed a hand gently on her mouth to silence her. She narrowed her eyes at him but he ignored it.

"Please Fia," he said wearily, "do not fight with me, not now. There will be time for that,"

"Aragorn," came Éomer's voice again, reminding him.

Aragorn nodded, and walked away and up the stairs without looking back, Éomer following in his wake.

"Well!" exclaimed Gimli, "What was that about?"

Legolas looked at Serafina equally bemused. Serafina ignored them both and walked to the corner of her cell an sat, willing them to leave her. With heavy sighs the elf and dwarf finally unladen their arms full of food placing it inside her cell and left without a word.


	38. Chapter 38

A/N: Enjoy! ;)

R&R

Chapter Thirty-eight

Heavy footsteps down the stairs woke her. Serafina sat up groggily, her stomach grumbling in satisfaction from her large feed courtesy of Legolas and Gimli.

"On your feet girl," came a familiar voice she was fast tiring ok. Éomer stood before her in the low light unlocking the cell. She frowned noticing his dress; he appeared before her as she had first met him in armour and travelling gear. He swung the door open and stood back motioning for her to step out of her cell. Shaking her head to try to bring her mind into the present she walked through the doorway and looked at him with trepidation in her glance.

"Am I free?" she asked disbelievingly.

Éomer's face gave her no answer but he lifted his hand to reveal to her what he carried. Chains.

Serafina's head snapped up, now fully awake and she glared at him, "You are not sending me to Minas Tirith," she warned him in a dangerous voice.

Éomer smiled at her condescendingly, "If I were, how would you stop me?"

Serafina rose to the challenge and reached quickly for her knife. Éomer, who had apparently been anticipating some sort of reaction caught her wrist easily in one hand and held it in front of her.

"That was an obvious play," he said shaking her wrist in front of her eyes, his tone was admonishing. "Granted," he continued as an afterthought, "not many know of this last dagger you carry, so perhaps it will save you in the future. Give me your other hand," he instructed.

Raising an eyebrow she stood her ground without moving, "If you chain me, I will pick the locks,"

Éomer sent her an exasperated look. Grabbing her other wrist, he wrenched them into the cuffs. Squatting swiftly he did the same to her ankles and stood stepping back. "Can you walk?" he asked in a no nonsense tone.

Serafina took two steps towards him, head held high.

"Good," he said handing her back her dagger, "Now listen carefully. It is almost dawn, we are evacuating the city - orcs are coming. We travel to Helm's Deep, on foot. You can try to escape, but it would be foolish. Aragorn seems to think you will not attempt it with Uruks roaming the plains, but I do not have so much confidence in your judgement. So consider yourself warned! Apparently you were lucky enough to escape death once, do not try your luck twice in the same week," he paused looking her up and down, a deep frown appeared on his brow and he shook his head. "I suppose there is nothing else for it," he said and turned to walk up the stairs. Pausing on the first step he looked back at her, "Keep your head down," he barked before continuing up the steps.

Serafina stood momentarily shocked. Was she indeed not going to Minas Tirith? How had she escaped such a fate? She would be travelling out in the open with the entire people of Edoras. Closing her eyes in relief she sent up a prayer of thanks, opportunities for escape were being handed to her on a silver platter.

"Are you coming girl?" he asked from the top of the stairs. Serafina could not help a self-satisfied smile creeping onto her face as she climbed the steps to join him. Perhaps all was not lost after all.

When she stepped outside the strength of the sunlight made her squint as she looked on at the chaos below them in the streets. In the back of her mind she acknowledged that she had not seen the sunlight in a day and a half, so the painfulness of the bright sunshine was to be expected. The people of Rohan were being herded in different directions; families clung to one another desperately trying to not be separated. She frowned at the scene, trying to remain detached from the panic surging around her and lifted her hands to her hair as well as she could in her bonds and pulled it out of her face.

Éomer stopped her, his hands firmly pushing hers back down in front of her. Roughly he fanned her hair out so that she had to look though a curtain of lank brown locks. She flinched away from him but he ignored her.

"Keep your hair down," he said frowning at her. He beckoned to her and she followed as he traced his way through the crowd. As she walked she kept an eye out for those she knew but she saw no familiar faces until she saw Asteard, the young man who had ridden behind her when she was first taken captive by Éomer. He nodded at her and she returned his nod curtly. She should have guest that she would not be riding with Legolas, Gimli and Aragorn. Glancing down at her feet she realised that she wouldn't be riding at all. Asteard looked equally as unimpressed as she was; obviously this was not his idea of serving Lord Éomer and King Théoden.

Éomer left them sending Serafina a stern warning look. She sighed feeling her spirits sink; it would be a long and tiresome day before she was able to put any plan of escape into action.

#

It did not take long for Serafina's sinking spirits to turn into a foul mood. Before the sun had reached the apex of its daily climb she was fed up with Rohan and it's people. Walking towards the back of the large company she was tailed by Asteard, who she had thus far succeeded in ignoring. Her other companions, she surmised were the lowest form of society Rohan had to offer. Being the only female in the group she was the object of all of their jeers.

There was something deeply familiar about the situation that bothered her. Gritting her teeth she kept her eyes on the uneven ground, focusing all of her energy on locating the source of the familiarity. She let her mind leave the open plains of Rohan and travel back in time to a place where she felt the way she did now. A moment came to mind; she was standing in an alleyway in Bree. All around her were men, not too dissimilar to those she currently walked with. Slowly the circumstances of the moment came back to mind. She had just returned from a nearby Inn, where she had been working as a barmaid for a few weeks. She had been stealing enough money each night to keep her fed and to pay back some debts she owed, but not enough that they would notice. The men in the alley had just been in the Inn, drinking and singing rowdily. She walked past them ensuring her back was ramrod straight but there was noting she could do to escape their notice. They called out to her, making remarks about her clothes, instructing her to loose a few inches off the hem and the neckline of her dress, grabbing at her as she walked past.

Another moment came back to her when she had reluctantly told Garth about her encounter with Sylnor. He had been surrounded by some of his associates, each of them old enough to be her father. They had laughed and joked that they would have found some way to lock her in and prevent her from running.

More and more memories from Bree raced through her mind. She tried desperately to make sense of what she was feeling. She did not hate the men for treating her that way, she had never felt victimised, she simply had assumed that that was how men behaved. How then had she gone through the past months without feeling this feeling? She tried to imagine the members of the fellowship jeering at her and she stopped dead in her tracks. Nothing. She could not imagine any of them speaking to her in such a manner. Even Boromir didn't treat her in that fashion. Admittedly he had threatened her, but his motivations were different. An unbidden surge of gratitude washed though her as she realised the quality of men she had been travelling with.

"Uh, Miyra," a polite voice sounded behind her accompanied by a gentle hand resting on her good shoulder.

She turned to face Asteard who looked at her with concern in his eyes. "Yes?" she asked curtly, not expecting him to call her by her false name. She had assumed he remembered that her name was Serafina from when she tried to kill Aragorn with the whole of Éomer's men watching.

"We need to keep moving," he said nodding forwards, "I think we will be stopping for a meal shortly."

She stared at him for a moment, startled by the tender encouraging tone in his voice, before reluctantly lifting a chained foot to begin the monotonous trudge again.

#

Eventually they did stop for lunch. She stood surveying the crowd; the people of Rohan stretched across the plain farther than she had guessed.

"Come," Asteard took a step in front of her, "let us find some food! I may be merely baby-sitting but I'm sure they will not refuse us a good feed!" he said brightly.

Serafina followed him obediently, she had no reason to run off; she was hungry and chained and had no way to disappear without his, or anyone else's notice.

After winding their way through the throngs of Rohirrim, eventually Asteard found someone he knew. They were pointed in the direction of large steaming pot. Serafina's stomach growled loudly and she gladly followed Asteard to the food.

She was handed a bowl of watery looking soup - it looked a lot like what they had fed her in the cell, and a hunk of crusty stale bread. They started making their way back to their place in the company but Serafina couldn't wait. Impatiently she took a slurp of the soup as she walked. A horrible taste filled her mouth. She stopped and desperately tried to swallow but her body refused it. Gagging she coughed the foul liquid up and it dribbled from her mouth back into her bowl. Asteard looked back at her wrinkling his nose.

"I was afraid of that," he said sympathetically.

"What?" she asked coughing, trying to resist the urge to wipe her tongue on her sleeve, "You thought there was a chance it could taste like horse manure in dirt and water?"

He laughed but nodded sadly, "Lady Éowyn has many talents," he paused obviously searching for a tactful sentence "She doesn't normally cook…" he said quietly. Looking dubiously at his soup he dipped his finger in and stuck it in his mouth. His face screwed up in disgust and he spat on the floor. "Here, pass me your bowl," he said. Serafina willingly handed him her bowl and he tipped the contents of them between two rocks. "Wait here, I'll see if I can find something else" he instructed and took the bowls back to where they got them.

Serafina sat miserably on the rocks. How the soup could taste worse that the food they feed their prisoners was beyond her. Distracting herself from the terrible food she searched the landscape for familiar faces. Eventually she located Legolas and Gimli in the distance, she thought of going to speak with them but the possibility of more food from Asteard kept her stationary. Looking down at her piece of stale bread a sigh left her lips; it was at least better than the soup.

Chewing heavily, a golden head bobbing in the sunlight caught her eye, it was Éowyn. Serafina began to smile as she thought of walking up to her to tell her exactly what she thought of her cooking but her smile was short lived. Éowyn was talking with Aragorn her head was bobbing with laughter. A striking pang of jealousy seared her and she couldn't help the scowl appearing on her face. Suddenly Éowyn's arm was resting on Aragorn's chest.

Of course Éowyn would be interested in Aragorn. She berated herself for not thinking of this sooner. Could this possibly be the reason why she had seen so little of him? She watched them stubbornly, mechanically chewing the tasteless bread as she watched. By the time Asteard returned she had finished it.

"I'm sorry Miyra," he said stumbling over her name slightly, "There is nothing else left. Even the rest of the bread has gone,"

Serafina nodded and stood ready to follow him back the rest of their company.

"Don't look so sad Milady," he said smiling, "I'm sure she won't be cooking dinner too. I'll even have a word to Lord Éomer - but I don't think it will be necessary, he know what her cooking is like better than any of us."

She nodded again, intending to smile at him, but her eyes were immediately drawn behind him to where Éowyn was walking away from Aragorn. She looked back at Aragorn to see if she could make out any expression on his face. Instead she was rewarded with something much better, the sight of him tipping out the contents of his bowl onto the ground.

#

Serafina waited another few minutes lying completely still in the darkness. Asteard appeared to be asleep next to her but she wanted to be sure before she started picking the locks on her chains. Her plan was simple. Unlock her bonds, steal a horse, leave. She knew there would be someone on watch but she did not know where and she couldn't waste the whole evening locating them, she would just have to move quickly and silently.

After a good few minutes of even, heavy breathing from Asteard, she reached behind her belt with a finger and pulled out the pins she needed. Soundlessly she worked away as she lay horizontal on the ground. Before long she eased the last of the cuffs from around her ankles and crouched on the ground, searching for movement.

She saw nothing. As low as possible she made her way across the camp, careful not to stand on anything, or anyone. She stole from wagon, to tent, to rock, each time stopping to reassess if the path was safe. Eventually she caught sight of the horses. She made a beeline for them crouching as she ran her heart pounding with adrenaline. She hesitated when she reached them, basking in her victory.

Strong hands shot from nowhere. One clasping her mouth, stifling any sound she might make. The other wrapping around her waist lifting her off the ground. Serafina thrashed against her captor but he held her fast. Eventually he put her down by a tree a few hundred yards from the horses. She spun to face him drawing out her knife. Her eyes met grey ones. Aragorn raised an eyebrow at her. She stood up straight and sheathed her dagger.

"I see Éomer let you keep it," he said indicating to where she had hid the knife.

She didn't answer.

"How are you?" he asked concernedly.

"I would be better if I hadn't spent the day in chains," she answered flatly.

"They do not appear to have slowed you down," he noted taking a step towards her.

"I thought I'd stretch my legs," she smiled at him slyly.

"Before stealing a horse?" he asked her knowingly.

"Actually I was looking for food," she lied quickly, knowing he would see through it, but not wanting to fight him yet.

"Did you find any by the horses?"

She smiled sweetly at him, "Well after getting a taste of manure at lunch today, I could hardly pass up the opportunity for seconds,"

Aragorn laughed loudly. Serafina smiled at the sound and relaxed. She looked at him as he stood before her and was struck by her urge to ask him about himself. Embarrassed by her own awkwardness she squared her shoulders and decided to start small, "How are you?" she asked almost too seriously.

Aragorn however took no notice of her clumsy question and frowned, "I am well Fia," he said halting, his tone however said the opposite and he looked as if he wanted to add more to his statement. She raised her eyebrows at him conveying her doubt. He sighed then spoke, "We walk a dangerous road, and we are extremely vulnerable to attack if the Uruks catch us,"

Serafina took a moment to digest his words. "Would it have been better if we had stayed in Edoras?" she asked eventually, shuddering at the thought of being found in her cell by the large Uruk who she had killed.

"I do not know," he answered honestly, "But I dislike this open travel. How is your shoulder?" he said changing the subject.

Serafina shrugged, "Much the same,"

"May I look?" he asked quietly.

"It's only a bruise," she said dismissively.

"Show me," he said darkly.

Serafina felt that familiar blush creep up her neck. At once she was grateful for the tree behind her to draw strength to stand from, yet she was simultaneously cursing it for blocking her escape route. She nodded briskly and he stepped forwards raising his hands to her left shoulder. Gently he eased the mended fabric over her shoulder. She stood nervously, but ever the gentleman he pulled the fabric down only so far as for him to see the bruised shoulder. Her mind was whirling, she wondered if he would insist on looking at her hip? She shuddered involuntarily at the thought. Unbidden, the memory of how he tended her first wound came to her; the splinters of wood in her stomach back in Bree. She remembered how nonchalantly she had lay on the bed in only her breast-band and pants, unembarrassed and unblushing. She knew that technically there was little difference between that occasion and showing him the bruise on her hip now, but in her mind the two scenarios were almost incomparable. So much had passed between them.

His hands moved over the skin so tenderly that she wondered how he could touch her so lightly. She noticed that his breathing was sharper than normal and his breath swirled around them in the cold night air. She brought her hands to her stomach to support her but it was almost no use. His hands on her bare skin, his closeness and his breath caressing her neck was intoxicating.

Mustering her strength she lifted her eyes to look at his face. His expression was tortured. With the gentlest touch he spread out his hand and placed it over the dark handprint left by the orc. Eventually he lifted his eyes to hers and said with the fiercest intensity, "I would have killed each of them with my bare hands for what they did to you."

Serafina raised her eyebrows in surprise. Then forced some amusement into her voice to try to ease the tension on his face, "Do you not think that would be slightly extravagant? Surely a sword would do as an aide."

He looked at her in disbelief and hurt, "I would protect your honour to the – "

"My honour?" Serafina laughed outright, "I hardly think my honour is hurt. My pride, I'll admit, did not fancy being passed around and - "

"Fia, not even you can laugh at this so easily," he reprimanded her darkly.

"Easily?" she hissed at him her mood changing instantly, "I laugh at this easily?" she repeated pushing his hands off her. "I laugh because I cannot spare the strength it would take to admit what so nearly happened. But it is not easy!"

At her speech Aragorn bowed his head briefly before looking up and cupping her face in his hands. Serafina could not find the strength to push him off, but she would not give way to him. Not yet.

"What do you expect me to do?" she asked, hating the shake of vulnerability in her voice, "I have been a prisoner of Rohan for days now, and still they threaten me with Minas Tirith,"

"I will not let them take you to Minas Tirith," he said fervently, "When you go to Minas Tirith it will be with me by your side, I will protect you. I swear it,"

She shook her head in his hands, "What if they had sent me today? What if they send me tomorrow? You would not know!" she whispered back spitefully bringing her hands and instinctively to his chest, "I walk with my own; the low-lives and criminals," he shook his head in disagreement but she pushed at his chest to make him listen, "You ride with the King," she said emphatically, "and Éowyn," she added under her breath.

He frowned at her last words and said, "Serafina, I do what I must. In time you will understand,"

"I would understand now if you trusted me!" she spat bitterly.

"This has nothing to do with trust," he countered evenly moving his thumb against her cheek.

Her argument died on her lips as he continued to caress her cheek. She looked at him questioningly and watched as his brow furrowed at her expression. He offered her a sad, small smile and brought his forehead down to rest on hers.

"Trust me," he whispered pleadingly.

Serafina swallowed at his tone, of course she trusted him. He was Aragorn. As her anger faded, his closeness hit her anew. She could feel the heat of his body surrounding her in the cool evening, warding off the night. His hands on her face had moved their way behind her head so that only his thumbs were on her cheeks, his fingers burying themselves in her hair. She breathed in sharply at his intimacy, his scent rushed into her lungs. Heart pounding she gripped his chest for strength. With great effort she looked up at him. He lifted his head off her forehead and looked at her questioningly, waiting for confirmation.

Swallowing thickly she nodded and whispered, "I trust you,"

But she was not rewarded with a smile. His features relaxed slightly but a frown still played on his brow. He brought a hand from her face and pulled her right hand over his heart, holding it there tightly. He leant back down closer to her but did not let his forehead touch hers, instead he lingered inches from her face. Serafina's breathing was becoming ragged. She heard a tiny voice somewhere in the back of her mind screaming at her to stop, but for whatever reason she could not, or would not hear its arguments. He moved his had that was cradling her face to trace his fingers along her jaw line and neck, then back up to her chin. She turned her face upwards slightly and her nose brushed against his lips.

"Fia," he whispered, bringing his fingered around to her lips; they parted at his touch. She could feel every callous and scratch on his fingertips as they passed over her dry, chapped lips. He was so close, too close. She could see nothing but him, she was practically breathing him in, gripping his chest with both hands as if she was holding on for life. She blinked and felt her eyelashes brush against his cheek. Her eyes dropped to his lips, then back up to his eyes. His fingers found their way to the nape of her neck, and he gently pulled her closer. Her heart was hammering in her chest as he lent towards her, closing the last breath between them. His lips lingered above hers, she knew they were both hesitating, wondering where the next step would take them. She snaked her left hand up to his neck to signal that there was no need to be unsure. Slowly he sighed and pressed his lips onto hers, kissing her gently. She felt her knees buckle and clung to him weakly. His lips were soft as he coaxed hers apart. Gradually she gave in and kissed him back, opening her mouth and touching his with her tongue. He responded immediately with a low groan that brought a smile to her lips. The warmth of his mouth began to spread through her body and she shifted her weight from the tree and leant into him, standing on her toes to deepen the kiss. Torture, was all that she could think. He is torture. Her left hand moved from his neck to his head, burying itself in his hair and holding him closer to her. His arms snaked around her pulling her so that she was flush against him. She felt his hands move down to her waist and then without warning he grabbed her hips and pulled her roughly against him. Searing pain ripped through her.

"Ahhh," a strangled breath escaped her. Her hands flying to her mouth to stifle the cry. She cringed involuntarily, eyes welling up from the agony in her right hip.

He pulled his hands away and looked at her, "Fia, I'm sorry," he began his voice still husky. Tenderly he lifted a hand to her cheek in apology.

Suddenly the vision of Legolas handing her Aragorn's ring flashed before her eyes and she flinched away from his touch. What was she doing? Was she trying to get him killed? She had told herself to keep a safe distance from him. _Kissing_ him most certainly did not fall into that safe distance. Her heart sank as she straightened her back, she knew what she had to do and she hated herself for it. "This is a mistake," she whispered, bringing her hands down by her side. She clenched her teeth, mentally hardening her resolve to fight whatever argument he put forward. When he didn't speak she turned quickly and left him standing there.

She needed to walk quickly. She wanted to make the most of her lead - if she could just get to the horses before he recovered from the shock, she might get away. She heard footsteps behind her in the night and she broke out into a run. Heart pounding she jumped the rocks and people in her path. She wanted to look behind her but she couldn't waste even a second; she had to escape that future somehow. Reaching the horses she pulled out her knife - she didn't have time to bother with the knots and buckles. She heard footsteps growing closer behind her and felt panic set in. Moving to the closest horse she found its tether and set her knife to it. Before she could make a cut, strong hands grabbed her arms holding her fast.

"Please?" she asked breathlessly not looking up at him.

"Please?" he asked her in disbelief. Aragorn's voice had lost its huskiness, but he was slightly out of breath. "Please let you go into the night when Uruk-Hai roam the plains of Rohan?!" he shook his head in disbelief.

Serafina would not show defeat, she struggled against him but it was pointless. Face unreadable, he stood her up and marched her back to her place with Asteard. She fought him the whole way but she was no match for him. Upon arrival he found her chains next to Asteard who fast asleep where she had left him. With ease, Aragorn held her as he fastened the cuffs around her ankles and wrists.

He stood back to survey her and she glared at him defiantly. To her surprise his hands were suddenly on her body, but the contrast between how he touched her now and how he was holding her not two minutes before was staggering. It took her a moment before she realised what he was doing. He was searching for her pins, preventing her from being able to pick the locks again. Without thinking she pulled her hips away from him, but that only signalled to him where to look. He ran his fingers ever so gently along the inside of her belt. He smiled grimly at her when he found his prize. She watched him pull each one and examine it closely before pocketing them one by one. She wasn't surprised to see the look on his face as he pulled pins that look like nothing more than hairpins from her belt, they didn't look like much but they were extremely useful. Eventually he appeared satisfied that he had them all.

A steely silence stretched between them as he stood in front of her. His hair hung about his face and she couldn't make out his expression. She badly wanted to step forward and tuck his hair behind his ears but she stood firm. Pleas for him to excuse her actions ran through her head, willing her to spill them but she knew she could not. It was clear to her now; she needed to put distance between their friendship if she wanted physical distance between them.

"And what now, when the Uruks come?" she asked brandishing her cuffed wrists at him, "You said this was not about trust and now you chain me like an animal!" she goaded him, hissing though her teeth.

"You accuse me of not trusting you, yet you seek only to run from us with no reason and no obvious destination," he said in a low, calm voice. Serafina couldn't help a shiver running up her spine, there seemed to be a note of warning in his tone. She closed her eyes briefly, willing herself not to do it, but her mouth opened and the words came out.

"I have no destination. My objective is only to leave, to be rid of this quest and everyone associated with it!"

Aragorn stood very still. She stood a little straighter and lifted her chin to strengthen her failing resolve. After a long moment Aragorn stepped forward. His hand reached out to her shoulder. Serafina tensed but forbid herself to flinch. She felt his fingers graze her left shoulder gently as he pulled the fabric back up into place. His hand dropped to his side and he looked at her earnestly, "Be careful that you don't spin me so many lies that I may one day begin to believe them. There is more to you than you would have me believe - don't make me doubt it."

She closed her eyes, trying desperately to block him out of her senses, but they were still on edge. She could smell him standing close to her, in her minds eye she could see him, her ears reeled from his words and her shoulder tingled where his fingers brushed her skin. After a moment of standing there with her head high and her eyes closed she heard him sigh, and felt the cold air rush as the heat of his body left with him, leaving her standing cold and alone in the night.


	39. Chapter 39

R&R

Enjoy!

Chapter Thirty-nine

Asteard suspected nothing. It occurred to Serafina that she should feel at least slightly guilty for trying to escape the night before, but she felt numb instead. Sleep had evaded her for the remainder of the evening, she was unable to close her eyes without seeing Aragorn's clouded expression, or feeling his hands on her face and neck. Eventually she gave up on sleep and pulled out her books, ink and quill and began the mind numbing task of copying a poem about flowers onto her an empty page.

Desperate to keep her mind off Aragorn she tried to remember the words she had written in her childish scrawl under the bright light of the moon. Only fractions came back to her like; _beauty unequalled_ and _gentle caresses of sweet perfume like starlight. _Her mind wandered dangerously to Aragorn's caresses and she swallowed thickly.

"How did you sleep?" a voice asked from behind her.

Serafina whipped around to see Asteard looking at her with a bored expression. She scowled at him and turned back around before answering him in an undertone, "As well as anyone who sleeps on stony ground with no blanket and their hands and feet in chains,"

"Once we arrive in Helm's Deep I'll talk to Éomer about getting your bonds removed. He is just and fair," he answered with a cheerful tone.

She turned her head again to look at him. The effort to remain upbeat was evident on his face. "Just and fair," she said not hiding the venom in her tone. She remembered the look on his face when Éomer assigned him to mind her. Smiling resentfully she said, "Is not the rest of your éored scouting the area, protecting us?"

"Yes," he said regretfully.

"I'm flattered that you think 'baby-sitting' me equal to the duty your éored carries out," she goaded. He didn't answer. Serafina took it as permission to continue, "Why did Éomer the Just pick you for this duty? Is it because you're younger than all of the others or because you're not as good as them?" She paused waiting for him to react but no noise came from behind her. A question of why she was doing this to him crossed her mind briefly, but she didn't care - she was angry, and Asteard was her closest target. "It could be both," she mused out-loud, "I wonder what will happen to you when Aragorn tells Éomer that I escaped last night and he had to chain me up himself because you were sleeping?"

Hands grabbed her from behind and spun her around on the spot. Asteard stared a her, his eyes livid. "You are…" he spluttered.

She smiled at him maliciously, disliking herself more and more each passing second, revelling in her self-hatred and self-pity, "What am I?"

Asteard took a step back from her and breathed deeply, visibly calming himself. When he answered his usually kind eyes were hard and cold, "You are a friendless murderer, " he whispered quietly, "Yes, I know you are Serafina, and I know your crimes. A day and a half I have walked with you and none of those who you claim friendship with have come to visit you. You take pride in nothing but your distain for others and their duty," he looked her up and down before nearly spitting, "I pity you".

His hands shot out roughly to turn her around. Suddenly a voice carried over the wind cried a warning, "Wargs!"

Serafina stumbled, wargs? She looked around her. The landscape was rugged; hilly with great rocks strewn around as if the heavens had rained boulders. "No!" she whispered eyes wide, it could not be that. In her mind she saw Legolas' distraught face. Her sour parting with Aragorn the night before flashed through her memory, it could not be coming true, not now. Sound of flighting and and yells reached them on the wind.

Without another thought she broke free of Asteard's hold to make for the battle. She didn't make it two steps however before her chains tripped her. Serafina flew face first into the dirt. "Get these off me!" she screeched squirming, trying to find her feet. To Asteard's credit he came to her side and offered her a hand to help her up.

"Give me the key!" she hissed at him brandishing her cuffed wrists at him.

"For what reason?" he asked her, "So you can join the battle? Somehow I think they would not be grateful for your assistance," he remarked calmly.

The sounds of battle from what Serafina thought must be just over the hill were getting louder and a sense of crazed urgency washed over her. She knew she only had a moment to get the better of him, instinctively she grabbed his offered hand with both of hers and yanked him down beside her. Within a moment she was on top of him and had her dagger to his throat.

"Don't think I won't do it," she warned him. He looked up at her with bewilderment in his eyes. She knew she'd been lucky - Asteard was strong enough to beat her at anything, but she'd had the element of surprise, and she was fast. Pressing the dagger against his neck she said through gritted teeth, "You told me yourself I am a murderer, would you like me to prove it or will you tell me where the key is?"

"A-around my neck," he stammered.

"Unlock my hands!" she ordered him. He fumbled with the chain, "Quick!" she cried desperately.

Within seconds her hands were free. Ripping the keys from him she unlocked the cuffs around her ankles and without a second glance ran as quickly as her legs could carry her towards the sounds of battle over the hill.

Carnage met her eyes. Everywhere men were hacking at orcs and wargs. She could see Gimli swinging his axe at one of the remaining enemies. Desperately she scanned for Aragorn, but she could not see him. She slowed to a walk, forcing one step after the other until she stopped. She could feel her hope fading, like a flame reaching the end of the candles wick. She saw the scene from the mirror once again. Legolas' expression appeared more real this time as he walked towards her.

"Serafina," he said gently, eyes filled with unfathomable sadness, "He is dead, Fia,"

Something small registered in her brain, she'd never noticed the quality of the elf's voice before in her visions. Somehow she'd always managed to miss that detail. Her attention shifted as she watched him produce the all-too familiar ring. Dread formed in her heart for the reality to come; surely Legolas would find her soon, his eye sad and pitying.

Something touched her hands. With a jolt she was brought back to the present.

"Serafina?" asked Legolas, looking down at her with concern.

"No," she whispered, horrified at reality.

"I am sorry," he said bracingly.

Blinking, Serafina stared at the elf standing in front of her. Had fate played some kind of cruel trick on her and merged her vision with reality? She searched Legolas' face and saw pain and concern mingled in his expression.

"Fia?" he asked, using her nickname again, "Here,"

She looked back down at his hands pressing something into hers. On her palm rested Aragorn's ring. Suddenly the full force of what was happening hit her in the chest. Her eyes snapped back up to Legolas', fear brimming in her expression.

"No," she repeated looking at him, desperately shaking her head. He could not be dead. Not yet. She had at least expected some of the other visions to pass before this terrible fate occurred. She had thought she would have at least some kind of warning so show where the path she was on was taking them. Aragorn's expression flashed before her eyes as he had caressed her face only the night before, that memory morphed into another as he reproached her for lying to him only minutes later. It had been too dark to make out his face. Regret began to well inside her, though for what precisely she could tell.

Looking down at her hand she felt a wave of repulsion for herself wash over her. She grabbed Legolas' hand and shoved the ring back to him. Legolas looked at her questioningly.

"He would have wanted you to have it, of that much I am certain," he whispered to her.

Despair, regret and repulsion mixed inside her heart and she could make nothing of the confusion. Anger boiled to the surface and she could not contain it, "But I don't want it!" she yelled at him.

Legolas looked slightly taken aback for a moment, but soon collected his countenance. His face became a mask of grim determination.

"Aragorn!" yelled a familiar voice from behind them.

Legolas and Serafina turned to see Gimli walking towards them.

"What are ye doing lassie?" he shouted as his stout legs moving quickly, "Where is the lad? I've half a mind to-" he stopped abruptly as he saw the expressions on their faces, "Legolas?" he asked, demanding an explanation.

Legolas left Serafina's side and stood in front of Gimli, placing his hand on the dwarf's shoulders. Serafina watched horrified as Gimli's expression changed from confusion to disbelief to despair. Her head felt numb. A dull ache formed in her chest, at first it was so small that she could barely feel it, but it grew until it felt like her heart was trying to swallow itself. She had failed him. She'd known his life was in danger but she had not been able to save him. Countless memories flitted through her head of all of the moments she might have had an opportunity to alter the future but for whatever reason she hadn't. Galadriel's knowing smile filled her vision and choked on her breath. Had she known? Had Galadriel planted the visions in the mirror for her to find knowing there was no way to save him? Was this her penance, to live with the unattainable vision of a future by Aragorn's side, knowing she had not done enough to save him?

Someone yelled Legolas' name bringing her mind back to the present. She heard his bow twang but did not look for what he was shooting. She looked up and heard men asking for Lord Aragorn. Legolas looked over at her, Gimli was on his knees yelling or crying, she did not know which. She wanted to join him but she felt hollow. She met Legolas' gaze again and before she knew it the words were tumbling out of her mouth.

"Where is he?" she demanded. In her mind she saw the image of Aragorn lying in the dirt, face bloodied and a rusty dagger protruding from his chest. Bile rose in her throat and she gagged, forcing it back down.

Legolas only shook his head in answer. She wondered if her face looked like his; bewildered and distraught. Something snapped inside her and she strode up to Legolas grabbing his shirt front, "Where is he?!" she asked again, her throat constricting.

"His body is not here," he said resting his hands on her arms, "he went over the cliff," he nodded behind her.

Almost tripping over herself she ran to the cliff edge. Standing on the edge she looked below; there was nothing she could make out but swirling water around jagged looking rocks. Turning back around she saw Legolas walking towards her, Gimli hadn't yet moved. It appeared that the men of Rohan were beginning to realise that Aragorn had been slain. She saw hopelessness begin to spread onto their features, she realised her face must have looked the same for when Legolas reached her he said, "Hope is not lost," he lifted a hand to her cheek and wiped away tears she had not know where there before tilting her chin up with his fingers.

"How can you say that?" she asked voice cracking.

"In life he gave us hope," he answered his fair voice was even, contrasting greatly with the emotion threatening to spill from Serafina's, "I will not abandon his gift now that he is no longer with us,"

Her heart beat loudly in response, Aragorn had taught her to hope, would she betray his efforts and despair when so much was left to do? She stared at Legolas for a minute, leaning on his strength and she felt a slight change in his eyes as he looked back at her. Perhaps he pitied her, pitied her for her foolishness of feelings. He had been right all along, she admitted to herself. She had feelings for Aragorn, perhaps she would understand them better with time. But Legolas had also been right in that Serafina did not deserve him.

"Legolas!" a voice yelled across to them. Serafina followed Legolas' eyes that rested on a strong old man who walked towards them purposefully, "Legolas, where is Aragorn?" he asked briskly.

Legolas closed his eyes for a moment before answering back in a clear voice that carried across the plain for all to hear, "Lord Aragorn is no longer with us, he was slain and his body went over the cliff edge,"

Serafina watched as the man's face changed from disbelieve to grim resolve. He barked out some instructions to his men and turned to walk away catching Serafina's eye. He stopped dead.

"Serrah?" he asked confusion on his face, "What are you doing here? You should be with the rest of the company, not on a battle ground," his voice was gentle but admonishing at the same time, his gaze was intense.

Serafina shifted uneasily. Over the hill she saw Asteard running towards them. More closely she saw Éomer stop mid stride as he saw her, a dead pigeon in his hands. Unsure of what the mad old man was talking about and not wanting to deal with Éomer she dropped her head and began towards Asteard wanting only to be alone with her grief.

"Serrah? Why would you walk away from me without answering?" he asked concernedly, closing the distance between them, "You look very ill - what's wrong?"

Serafina took a steadying breath, willing her voice not to crack as she spoke, "I don't know what you're talking about old man,"

"Miyra!" she heard Asteard yelling from across the plain.

Suddenly hands grabbed her upper arms and trust her face-first in the direction of the old man. She struggled in Legolas' grip but eventually she gave up. "Look!" cried Legolas, frustration brimming in his voice, "This is not Serrah! Are your eyes too blind to see?" he shook Serafina by the arms, literally brandishing her in front of the man.

"Legolas!" Éomer warned now running towards them.

"Aragorn is dead and I will not keep this farce up any longer," he said addressing Éomer.

Serafina's nerves stood on end, "A farce Legolas?!" she yelled turning her head to look at him, "Yet you are happy to let me believe that Boromir is dead and Gandalf is alive! Do you think it's funny now that Aragorn is dead?!"

"Boromir is dead! And Gandalf lives. You would have known this had you not let your stubbornness get in the way of your ears!" he countered quickly before continuing to address the old man fiercely, "Do you see her now? Take a good look at her. Her hair is lank, her body malnourished, her clothes torn and her skin bruised. Does she look like her now? And if you get past her condition you will see that her eyes are a brighter green and her nose has freckles. Does she look like your mistress now?"

The old man continued to stare at her. Serafina thought she saw something change in his eyes but this made his gaze even more bewildered. Legolas held her fast, she had never heard him loose his temper like this before. Éomer was now standing behind the old man looking at her, dead bird still in hand. Asteard had slowed to a walk and treaded towards them apprehensively.

As if suddenly remembering something Legolas grabbed her right arm and held it before the man's face, "Look!" he said, "This scar belongs to none other than Serafina of Gondor, the very girl you have held as a prisoner for the past few days. This is she. This is Serafina who you have been contemplating sending to Minas Tirith to answer for her crimes as a child. This is the girl you agreed should be called Miyra in case word escaped that the thief-child of Gondor was in Rohan. She is not Serrah,"

"She looks…" the old man began before trailing off.

"My King?!" came a voice like music from on top of the hill behind them, "Théoden?" the woman called again.

The old man before her turned around and Serafina heard a name escape his lips, "Serrah?"

Éomer's voice suddenly drowned out all noise, "Háma!" he called, "Take take woman in hand, bring her to me!"

A man sprang into action and others followed. Before a moment had passed they had the woman by the arms and were leading her down the hill towards them. Serafina wondered why everyone was making such a fuss. Surely none of this mattered, whatever it was, now that Aragorn was dead. With Legolas' hands still on her, she had no other option but to watch as things unfolded before her. She wondered if Gandalf could possibly be alive, she thought it unlikely, but she thought it even less likely that Legolas would lie to her now. And Boromir? Could Boromir be dead? After a moment of consideration she realised it didn't matter, Aragorn was dead, so what difference would Boromir's death make now? It took her a moment to realise that the men had unhanded the woman and she walked gracefully towards them of her own accord, the men following meekly in her wake.

"Théoden, I'm glad you're alright, I was worried" she said sincerely, "Lord Éomer did you want something?"

Théoden, the name registered with Serafina - the old man was the King! How was this the old man she had seen in Medusal only days ago? But this question fell from her mind in an instant as Serafina looked at the face of the woman. She had not often looked at herself in a mirror, but she recognised herself in the woman in front of her. Though her eyes were wrong - the shape was the same but the colour was darker, more like a forest compared to the bright green Serafina knew her eyes to be. Her nose was slightly smaller than what Serafina was used to seeing, and her hair shone in the sunshine, healthy waves of thick dark hair cascaded down over her shoulders. And there was something wrong with her lips - a smile Serafina didn't know to be her own. Memory flickered, suddenly Serafina remembered seeing a face like her own but different in Galadriel's mirror.

Before she could voice her surprise Éomer spoke.

"Uncle, this woman is an impostor," he said nearly spitting his words.

"You're telling me, boy?" he yelled in agreement, "Put her back in chains, as soon as we can spare a rider she is to be sent directly to Minas Tirith!"

"You misunderstand me uncle. Serafina is no impostor, she may not be the most agreeable woman I have met but, for now at least, she has done no wrong. I am talking about Lady Serrah,"

Théoden's head whipped around from glowering at Serafina to frowning at Éomer, "What are you talking about?"

"This woman is a traitor," he said indicating to Serrah, who stood there calmly watching Éomer, "While you were sick she abandoned your bed and became mistress to Grima, since you have been well she came back to you but she has been sending messages," he thrust the dead pigeon into the air, "to the enemy - this is how they know our every move!"

"You are on dangerous ground Éomer," warned the king.

Serafina looked between the two, Éomer was clearly enraged he avoided looking at Serrah, instead choosing to engage only his uncle in his glance. Théoden looked between Serrah and Éomer, shocked at the accusations. Serrah chose that moment to speak.

"Théoden, don't be so hard on your nephew," she said taking a step towards him. She lifted an arm and placed it on his shoulder. Serafina's eyes widened, it was clear that the king was infatuated with the woman, and she instinctively disliked her. "He is obviously distressed by the death of his friend,"

"Yes," Théoden agreed frowning.

"My King!" cried Éomer, "I have proof that she is sending word to our enemy,"

"Which enemy, Éomer?! Sauron? Saruman? … Orcs?" he yelled.

"Read it for yourself," Éomer answered, thrusting the dead pigeon into the King's hands.

"'My Lord Saruman," began Théoden, "the heir of Isildur is dead, their strength will fail tonight when the battle comes. We will be reunited soon, S.' S? That could be written by anyone," he paused and looked at Serafina, "It could have been written by her!"

"Serafina is illiterate," answered Éomer smoothly. Serafina considered correcting him but realised it would not help her case, he was not far from the truth in any case. Éomer regarded her closely for a moment before adding, "When we found her she was half starved and had narrowly escaped a terrible fate from the Uruk-Hai. I doubt she would change her allegiance to the man who created the beasts. Besides, she would not betray Aragorn's memory so,"

"How do you know all this?" asked the king.

"Yes, how?" Serafina asked taking them all by surprise.

"Aragorn and I discussed the resemblance between yourself and Serrah at length," Éomer answered her simply.

"For all I know Éomer, you could have written that letter," said Théoden.

"For what purpose would I write such a letter, tie it to a pigeon and set it loose for Legolas to shoot?" he asked, clearly frustrated.

"To frame Serrah," answered the king matter-of-factly.

"I have no interest in framing anyone!" he said raising his voice, "My interest lies where it always has - in the protection of our people. This woman threatens that and I will do what I must to protect us from her!" he stopped abruptly to calm himself.

Serafina looked back at the woman. She truly was beautiful, it was easy to see how Théoden would want to protect and vouch for her; there was something in the very way she stood that held one captive. On closer examination Serafina realised that Serrah was a fully mature woman. It wasn't easily discernible, like when looking at a rose in full bloom you don't necessarily think of it as mature, you think of it as beautiful. She wondered how it was that they looked so alike; she guessed that maybe she could have had a sister, but surely Serrah was too old to be a sister - she was more the age that a mother would be.

Serafina almost stopped breathing. It couldn't be.

"What other reasons do you have for suspecting me of treason?" Serrah asked jovially as if they were having a friendly conversation over a meal.

"Your relationship with Grima should be reason enough to banish you," Éomer answered quickly.

"Éomer you will stop accusing her of these preposterous lies!" shouted Théoden.

Silence settled on the group. Serafina watched Serrah in denial, hoping for a sign that she was wrong. Eventually Théoden turned to Serrah and muttered something reassuring to her under his breath. In that moment Serafina's world changed; Serrah smiled at Théoden with her soft, pouted mouth and in an all-too familiar mannerism lifted her chin, jutting it proudly into the air. In that moment she knew it to be true.

Her body started to shake. Steadying herself she swallowed thickly. "Tell me Serrah," Serafina began, addressing the older woman for the first time, "did you know Arnudor took me to be drowned in the river?"

The colour in Serrah's face disappeared. Her beauty lessened slightly as her eyes widened, she stared at Serafina.

Serafina's nose wrinkled in disgust, "Was it your idea?!" she asked, her voice raising in volume, "Tell me, how does one become pregnant in the cells of Gondor, because I've spent some time in them and I would like to know how one falls pregnant in jail!"

"Serafina?" asked a voice from behind her. Vaguely she realised that Legolas still held her by the arms, she ignored him.

Pulling her eyes away from the woman who was now white, and almost rendered ugly from the expression on her face, she looked at Théoden and spat bitterly, "Théoden King, you asked for proof. May I introduce you to my mother, a former prisoner of Gondor and presumably a liar - unless of course she told you about the child she birthed in prison and gave away to be sent down the Anduin."


	40. Chapter 40

R&R

Enjoy!

Chapter Forty

"Asteard!" barked the king, not taking his eyes off Serafina, "Put her in chains,"

Asteard took a few tentative steps towards them, "Yes my Lord," he paused, "Uh, which one my Lord?"

"Both of them!" he answered tearing his gaze away from Serafina. She noticed he deliberately avoided looking at Serrah, she though it just was well. The initial shock that had disfigured Serrah's face had ebbed away and she was almost beautiful once more. Serafina kept her eyes on the other woman as Asteard re-cuffed her hands. Serrah barely moved as Asteard locked the chains previously used on Serafina's ankles onto Serrah's wrists.

"It is done my Lord," he said looking regretfully at Serrah.

"Very good," Théoden said brusquely, "Asteard, find Éowyn. She will undoubtedly not like it but she is the only one I trust to escort Lady Serrah to Helm's Deep,"

"If it pleases you uncle, I would escort Serafina," said Éomer frowning at her.

Serafina took a deep breath. She did not want Éomer's company, but she doubted they would consider her desires on such a matter. Standing still, she waited. Éowyn arrived shortly, Serafina heard her ask where Lord Aragorn was and her stomach did a sickening flip at the mention of his name. She closed her eyes to block out the world, but she could not block out Éowyn's cries. A small part of her wondered how the lady presumed to know him so well that she would mourn him after only a few short days of his acquaintance. Serafina thought of how he and Éowyn had laughed together only yesterday. To her surprise, no pang of jealousy coursed through her. She felt no envy, only deep sadness, and regret. Eventually she felt a hand on her back, signalling that it was time to move on. Heart aching she searched within herself and found a tiny ounce of strength. Gritting her teeth she straightened her back and opened her eyes - the day was not over yet.

#

"Did you love him?" Éomer asked her suddenly, breaking the long silence between them.

Serafina's head snapped up and her step faltered. A moment passed and she collected her thoughts again - that was none of his business. She didn't answer.

"Serafina?" he prodded.

"I heard you," she answered, voice straining to keep calm. She tried desperately to banish the memory of his kiss. Sure as she was that if she refused to remember it she would not have to decide what it meant. What it could have meant.

"The men lose hope," he mumbled looking around him.

She snapped out of her reverie and turned up her nose at the cowardice. "They are foolish to think the life of one man would have saved them," she said bitterly.

"One man can be the difference between victory and defeat," he countered.

Serafina spun to look at him, disgusted that he wanted to talk to her about such a topic after what had happened mere hours before. "One man!" she yelled at him, gesturing emphatically, "You are a man! Look around you - do you see how many men are here? If it only takes one to make a difference, then it could be any one of you!"

It was Éomer's turn to not answer. She lifted her chin involuntarily and turned back around to continue their trek. In her minds eye she saw herself with her chin in the air and her thoughts turned to Serrah. Had Aragorn suspected? Surely he must have.

Clearly Éomer's thoughts had taken the same direction as her own, "He had thought he was going mad when he first saw her," he said pausing, "You remember how he ran down to your cell? At that moment I had not voiced my suspicions to any one, I merely thought to wait and see if any of those who knew you could see you in Serrah. As it was, I knew Serrah, and could see her in you. That was why I insisted on the manure - Grima would have seen it in an instant, Éowyn nearly saw it despite the manure," Serafina stopped listening but Éomer continued, she could hear his voice like a rumble in the distance. She tried to let her mind drift away from Aragorn, but it would not be distracted. She began to wonder if he had fallen on the rocks or if he had somehow made it into the water, saving his body from further injury. How had he died - she didn't even know. Her heart begged her to stop the line of thought but she could not help herself. There were so many ways he could have died - mauled by a warg, slain by an orc, both. Unbeknownst to Serafina, her face began to twist into a tortured expression and Éomer eventually stopped his monologue and watched her as she walked, carefully placing one foot in front of the other.

Images of a dead Aragorn began to flood her mind. She wished fervently she had been able to see his body to put her vivid imagination to rest. Somehow the image she had seen earlier of his bloodied face with a dagger to his chest kept coming back to her. For a time she fancied it was because it was one of the least gruesome, and although his face was bloodied she could still make out his features, but something unsettled her about the image.

"Serafina look…" instructed a voice from behind her.

Lifting her head she saw a bleary looking keep set into the mountain. She blinked a few times, frustrated with her tears for obscuring her vision, until the image sharpened. Before she was even able to focus of the magnificent keep before them, recognition hit her in the stomach like a physical blow. She knew suddenly why the image she had conjured of Aragorn with the dagger was so unsettling; the dagger in his heart, it was her own. Bile rose instantly, she manage only three steps to the right before vomiting.

She retched violently, over and over. To Éomer's credit, he eventually came to her side and held her forehead as she continued to heave up every ounce that was in her stomach. Fiery bitterness stung her throat but still it would not stop. The image of her dagger in his chest was too vivid. Somewhere in her mind she knew it was imaginary - she could feel her dagger still in its sheath. But even though it was only her imagination, the implication of the image was very real. The vomiting turned into heaving - Serafina guessed there could not have been anything left in her stomach and she heard Éomer making soothing sounds. Part of her wanted to arch up and yell at him to get away from her, but her heart was not in it. Her heart, it seemed had fully left her and she felt like a shell; brittle and empty. Eventually heaving turned to sobs and the horse lord pulled her into a warm embrace.

When she quietened Éomer held her at arms length and looked at her. His eyes raked over her face and she felt like a horse whose quality he was appraising.

"Today is not over Serafina, this may be only the beginning of the tragedy that marches towards us. Look inside yourself. Where is the stubborn, difficult girl I met on the plains earlier this week? Where is the girl who can barely mount a horse but tries anyway in front of an éoard?"

Serafina's eyes narrowed. He was making fun of her after she had emptied her stomach, and her tears on top of him? She turned up her nose and regarded him through the red, puffy slits that were her eyes, "She's in front of you _Lord_ Éomer. Perhaps you can barely see me because your people have nearly staved me to death -"

"Good," he said cutting her off with a grim smile, "don't lose her. You'll need her before the night is through. Come, there is much to do."

#

The Hornburg was in chaos. Éomer handed her over to Asteard as soon as they were inside the walls, giving him strict instructions in Rohirric along with a burning torch. Serafina studiously avoided Asteard's gaze. She thought perhaps he asked her something once or twice but she made no answer to him. He led her through a maze of corridors until he found what appeared to be a deserted armoury. The room was large, five or six times the size of her cell in Medusal but it was completely empty. No weapons hung on the walls, no armour. Nothing. Sturdy looking metal rungs ran parallel to each other along length of the room, seeming to be almost at one with the wall. He led her to a corner of the room to the end of one of the pairs of metal rails. It wasn't difficult for her to imagine spears and pikes lining the walls behind the rungs. Quickly he removed one of her cuffs, slid the chain behind the metal bar slightly above her hip height. With a last look at her he set the torch into a stand on the wall before stalking out without a word.

Serafina stared into the dark room, lit only by the flickering torchlight. She was alone, completely alone. Fear seized her.

"Asteard?" she shouted, perhaps he was guarding the door to her improvised cell.

No answer.

"Asteard!"

Still no reply.

Her heart began to hammer in her chest. She knew she was being irrational, but it didn't help. For some reason the dark corners of the room where the light didn't touch haunted her. But she knew the scariest thought was that Asteard might not on the other side of the door.

"Asteard!" she cried as loud as she could, loosing all sense of self control.

In that moment she knew she was alone. No man would have ignored the desperation in her voice, no matter how badly she'd treated them. She resolved to be very polite to Asteard when he came to unchain her and take her to her next prison. A horrible thought that she was to be left in this dark room until they forgot about her flitted across her mind, but she shoved it aside.

Slowly, very slowly she began to realise why she hated to be left so alone; memories from the past couple of days ran rampant in her head, a myriad of images, and she wondered if there was to be an escape. She saw Serrah's face when she had realised that Serafina knew about Arnudor. She saw Aragorn's eyes as he looked at her, waiting to hear if she trusted him. She saw Legolas as he regarded her after shoving Aragorn's ring back into his hands. Gimli crying. Théoden staring at her, calling her Serrah. Éomer holding her. Aragorn kissing her. Asteard offering her a hand to help her up after trying to run with her feet chained. Aragorn's hands on her as she searched for her pins. His fingers on her lips. His hands easing her dress over her bruised shoulder.

A strangled cry escaped her lips. It sounded strangely hollow in the empty room. The sound brought her back to her senses momentarily. Berating herself for losing control she stood a little straighter and took some steadying breaths. She was alone in a deserted room, with apparently no one near enough to hear her scream. Now was not the time to loose control.

Serafina knew that here, there was no escaping the immediate past. She would need to confront what had happened, and so decided to deal with the easiest issue first - that of her mother.

She found that she was not as surprised as she expected; true Serafina had imagined a mother who welcomed her back with a tender embrace. But somehow the reality of the situation seemed more likely. Evidently her mother was no saint; first her father (whoever he was), then Théoden, followed by Wormtongue and then Théoden again. She wondered how much time had passed between Serrah's stint in jail and her relationship with Théoden. Serafina scoffed at her previous worry that her mother would be disappointed with her if they were ever to meet. She had always wondered what it would feel like to meet her mother, but now that the time had come she felt nothing but emptiness, and disgust… but there was some curiosity also; mostly it involved the particulars of Serrah's crime, and the identity of her father. She assumed it wasn't Théoden, he would have been ruling Edoras when her mother was in Minas Tirith. Nevertheless, Serafina resolved to find Serrah and question her.

She tried to imagine what questioning Serrah would be like; had she any feeling left for an estranged daughter? Or was she empty, like Serafina? With a sudden pang of self pity, Serafina realised she had not always been empty - she had been quite full of emotion until earlier that day, when Aragorn fell. Angrily she pulled at her cuffs, willing them to break. The pain of the metal digging into her skin was a glorious distraction from where her thoughts were heading, but they would not break. How dare Éomer subject her to this prison with no one but herself to keep her company! She rattled her chain against the bar but she knew it was in vain. Again she tried to slip the cuff over her hands but all she succeeded in doing was breaking her skin further still. A small whimper of pain escaped her and she gritted her teeth at her weakness. She cursed Aragorn under her breath for taking her pins but stopped herself halfway through.

Could she really curse him? Aragorn, who had always been unfailingly kind, and patient? Would she really curse his name now that he was dead? The image of his body with her dagger in his heart surfaced again and she swallowed the bile that rose in her throat. Somehow she had to accept what her mind was trying to tell her; she had killed him. The ache she had experienced earlier that day returned with a vengeance. She lifted her hand quickly to clutch her constricted chest, forgetting her chains, and cried out in agony as the cold metal broke into her already weeping wrists.

She cursed loudly, how could she have gotten herself into such a situation? How could she have allowed Aragorn to be killed when she had had warning? The image of his smile crept into her mind and she threw her head back, desperate to forget. Éomer's question came back to her; had she loved him?

The sound of metal clinking shocked her out of her reverie. She stood very still, watching the space where the door stood. In the low light she watched as the handle turned. A figure stole into the room, it was large, but that was all she could make out in the darkness.

"Who's there?" she asked, hating the shake in her voice.

"Serafina?" the voice asked.

The voice sounded too familiar, she knew her mind was playing a trick on her. "Who's there?" she asked again, putting some steal back into her voice. The man came no closer, she scowled at his game and snarled at him, "Lingering in the shadows will not make me afraid - but it makes you a very particular type of cad to try to frighten me so!"

"I have no intention of unnerving you," he answered. There was no mistaking it now, it was Aragorn's voice. It struck her briefly that it hadn't taken her very long to go insane, but then if she was insane, she could have lost all scope of time and been in here for days. Slow footsteps came towards her, eventually she could make out Aragorn's unmistakeable form and face, his hands outstretched in peace.

"Oh please," she said, feeling emboldened by the realisation she was talking to a figment of her imagination, "if you had no desire to scare me you wouldn't be here haunting me."

"Fia," he said stopping a few feet in front of her, "I am no ghost,"

"Tell that to the man who died today," she spat back. She was furious; how dare her mind play tricks on her like this!

"I did not die," he countered evenly, a smile beginning to spread onto his features.

"Oh, and I suppose that's why you're here now? Because you're alive?"

Aragorn smiled at her again and took a step forward, "I am alive Fia," he said offering his hand out for her to take.

She stepped back into the wall and drew her hands away from him. Unfortunately the cuffs bit into her wrists again and she drew in a breath sharply.

Predictably, Aragorn frowned, "What have you done?" he asked, walking over to the wall to grab the torch. He came back to stand in front of her and looked down at her wrists. "You did this?" he asked her incredulously.

"I'm not particularly fond of confinement," she answered.

"You, Serafina, are in a never-ending state of injury," he murmured quietly, setting the torch onto the floor and taking a familiar balm out of a pocket.

"Don't touch me," she warned looking at his offending hands as they opened the jar of ointment.

"Very well," he answered.

She lifted her eyes to his. Something caught in her throat, he did not look how she would have imagined him too; he was grubby, his clothes were torn and his eyes were a dark navy in the torch light. He also smelt wrong, slightly damp and muddy. She wrinkled her nose, "You smell funny,"

"I fell into the river,"

"Off the cliff?"

"Legolas already told you that much," he said matter-of-factly. She could sense his patience starting to wain.

"If you are alive - how did you survive the fall?"

"Luck?" he suggested shortly.

"What if I don't believe you?"

"I will have to leave you soon to prepare for the siege," his voice was hard, "If we all survive, Valar willing we can laugh about it tomorrow. If not," he paused looking at her with a strange glint in his eyes, "well, you already believe me dead so it can hardly matter to you if I die a few hours earlier or later. For me, this might be goodbye."

Serafina looked at him gravely and weighed his words. Yes, the Aragorn in her imagination would have reacted that way to her wrists. But she did not think she would imagine a scenario where he would talk of saying goodbye because he was about to go to his death. She certainly doubted that she would replace his natural smell with the stench of muddy water…

"Aragorn?" she asked timidly. She lifted her hands to touch his chest but they stopped short and the chain clanged against the metal. "By the light of the Valar I swear I will chain Éomer and Asteard both in this infernal armoury and -"

A warm hand silenced her, lifting her chin up to look at him. He looked deeply into her eyes, but there was a sternness there she had not anticipated.

"You refused to take this from Legolas?" he asked holding up a familiar ring with his other hand.

Serafina stiffened; this was most certainly not her imagination. Trying to pull her chin out of his grasp she shrugged, trying to give an air of nonchalance, "It was not mine to take, I did not want it".

Aragorn raised his eyebrows but slipped the ring back onto his finger. She looked at him and wondered if there would ever be a time when she could be honest with him. Could she ever tell him that she blamed herself for his death, or near death?

"I though you were dead, Aragorn," she said seriously. "Can you at least accept that perhaps I wasn't thinking clearly?"

"You have made it abundantly clear that you are not thinking clearly," he muttered.

She looked at him angrily, "And now you are going to leave me here, alone in this room while you fight orcs?"

"What is my alternative Serafina?!" he asked her, anger flashing in his gaze to match her own. "The last time you were free you tried to escape into the night where Wargs and Uruks roamed the plains - need I remind you that you have had encounters with both of these enemies before and barely escaped with your life?! Tonight the same foe faces us, but this time they are ten thousand strong. I will not let you risk your life with your own stupidity!"

Her face became red with anger and her eyes wide with fear. She curled her lip hoping it would hide her terror, she had not forgotten the Uruk-Hai, "And so when these ten thousand orcs storm the keep I will be safely locked in this armoury, and they will never find me here!" biting sarcasm filled her voice and Aragorn took a step back as she snarled, "I guess it's lucky I can't escape, because if they stormed the keep my instincts would surely tell me to run for safety, rather than waiting here chained up like a pretty little gift for them to -"

"Enough!" he said holding up his hands. His face was twisted into a tormented mask and Serafina almost felt guilty for conjuring the images that were no doubt running though his head. But she grit her teeth and lifted her chin high, she was not about to get raped and skinned by an orc because she didn't have the stomach to remind Aragorn of the dangers of the situation. He took a deep breath and took her face in his hands, "If the walls are breached I will personally come and free you,"

She looked at him with her eyes wide, "And what if you are already dead?" she asked harshly, "Or does my life not concern you if yours is over?"

Aragorn took his hands off her face and grabbed her upper arms, shaking her. "How can you be so unfeeling?"

"How can you be so pigheaded to believe you are invincible? You already died once today!"

For a moment Aragorn looked as though he was about to rebuke her, but his face softened. "I am sorry you had to live through that," he said once again caressing her face, "I don't know how I what I would have done if…" he let the statement hang in the air.

Serafina laughed mirthlessly, "You probably would have jumped over the cliff after me and willed me back to life. It turns out that would have served me better," she paused regarding him coyly, "Instead I threw up for a quarter of an hour, I'm afraid I got some on Éomer,"

Aragorn laughed. Serafina felt her heart flutter at the sound and couldn't help but smile. He looked down at her and his mirth turned into something more serious, "Fia, I'm sorry but I cannot let you out. You are not my prisoner, and knowing you are not wandering around the Hornburg during the battle will keep my mind at ease,"

"But what if the -"

He cut her off, "If something should go wrong I promise you that someone will come for you and you will get away safely,"

Serafina sighed, it seemed she had only one last resort to win this battle. Taking a steadying breath she looked down at her hands, surveying his belt as she did. When she was composed she turned her face back up to him, unsure how to repeat something she had ended up doing unintentionally last time. She knew he normally saw through her pretence, so that was out. Instead she would have to draw on her own complex feelings. She was afraid he would die, yes. He had mentioned this might be goodbye. Tentatively she let her guard down, worried she would be assailed by a rush of feelings, but instead she felt a wash of exhaustion sweep over her.

"Aragorn? I don't want -" she paused that sounded wrong, "I don't know if -", again it was wrong. Mentally she cursed her awkwardness; she couldn't even voice her feelings to get the better of him.

"What is it?" he asked, looking down at her. She found herself wishing the light was stronger so she could make out his face.

Eventually she settled with the truth. As usual her clumsy phrasing made the words sound harsher than intended, but she didn't think he would mind, "I will not forgive you if you die tonight. I am so tired, and filthy, that I -"

Fortunately she was spared going on further. Aragorn stepped closer and placed his fingers on her lips.

"I have no intention of dying tonight," he whispered to her in a low voice, he turned her face up to him and studied it. She let him look at her, her eyes unguarded. She didn't know what he would see; fear, certainly; tiredness, undoubtedly; concern for him? Something stronger? Eventually his searching became too much and she closed her eyes. He pulled her against him. As she hoped her hands were squashed against his belt. She tired desperately to keep her head calm; his embrace was comforting, but his presence set her nerves on edge.

She buried her face in his chest, needing some privacy if she was going to be successful. Very carefully she squirmed against him, under the pretence of finding a more comfortable position, pushing herself closer to him. He responded in turn dropping a kiss onto the crown of her head and tightening his arms around her. His hands, splayed on her back, moved from her shoulders to the small of her back and around her waist. She smiled, enjoying the sensation, it would be easy to forget what she was doing and put her arms around him. Involuntarily her traitor arms moved to embrace him in return. She winced in pain as her wrists were again caught by the cuffs. Aragorn chuckled at her and brought a hand up to her face, pushing a strand of hair out her eyes. She glared at him, but his eyes danced with mirth. She huffed her annoyance - Aragorn could think she was annoyed about the pain in her wrists but she was more annoyed with herself for getting distracted by her own plan. Soon she would have to think of other plans that did not involve physical contact with Aragorn.

"Do no frown so my Fia," he said and placed a chaste kiss on her lips, "This is not goodbye".

Abruptly the reality of the situation caught up with her - it could very well be goodbye. She looked intently into his eyes, searching for the hope she had always found there. Again she found it in abundance, but it did not satisfy her.

"How can you say that?" she whispered, "And do not ask me to trust you; I do trust you, but it is everyone else that I do not trust,"

He cradled her face in his hands, "Look into your heart," he whispered back with the same intensity, "Does it tell you this is the end?"

She stared at him disbelievingly, but she did as he commanded and searched her heart and mind. As if waiting for her, the vision of Aragorn's grey eyes, dark with desire floated into her mind. A flush went through her body, realising how close she was to the man who filled her mind. She stared up into his eyes and said in a fiery whisper, "This is not the end!"

Without warning his lips descended onto hers. His mouth was hot and urgent, desperate to give as much comfort as it could take. She let herself be moulded into him and returned his kiss with fervour. His hands began to roam her body and a little voice yelled at her to pay attention. Without slowing the kiss she pressed her body hard against his, trying to make up for what her hands couldn't do, but she did not forget her hands. She treaded a dangerous line - she didn't want him to find out what she was doing, nor did she want him to misconstrue her actions for being a harlot. The kiss was deepening, and Serafina could feel the muscles in her abdomen contracting - it couldn't be long until she lost all rational thought - she had to act now.

Her hands caught as they were at his belt she at least didn't have to move them. She came up for air and met his gaze briefly before he caught her lips again with his - this time more tender. Splaying one hand as best she could against his muscular abdomen, the other she kept in place by the belt and expertly ran a finger along the inside - hoping he had stolen her hiding place for her pins. His kisses were becoming lingering and lazy, she let his hands roam. She had a very distinct feeling he was trying to memorise her body, her curves. She couldn't help but smile into his kiss when she found her prize. He smiled back at her and she nearly laughed out loud. Playfully she bit his lip, and he kissed her soundly in response. She found the thought crossing her head that maybe she should make all of her plans involving physical contact with Aragorn. She had to bite back a grin as she pulled two pins from the inside of his belt. He pulled back slightly to see her face and smiled, "What are you grinning like that for?" he asked huskily.

"I'm just enjoying myself," she said truthfully.

"You look like a guilty child," he observed.

She nearly laughed at his apt observation but she settled to tease him with a half truth, "I'm just looking forward to the future," she said with a coy smile.

He shook his head, but smiled at her. "I am glad we did not have to part fighting," he said smoothing her mattered hair. She tried not to melt into a useless sack of skin and bones at his feet, but it was becoming increasingly difficult. "I must leave you now," he said a frown returning to his face.

The levity from the moment before faded quickly and she looked into his eyes and nodded, suddenly unsure what to say.

"Be safe," he whispered leaning his lips onto her forehead.

"And you," she managed to choke out.

He stood back and observed her for a moment before nodding at her with a melancholy smile and leaving the room in a few large strides.

It took Serafina a good while to compose herself after he left. But before too long she had picked the locks on her cuffs and slipped them blissfully over her wrists. She didn't even need to wonder where she would go; she wanted answers, and somewhere in the keep her mother, was sitting with her wrists bound and Serafina intended to find her. Depositing her own cuffs into her pocket she walked out the door.


	41. Chapter 41

Enjoy!

Chapter Forty-one

Serafina would have liked nothing more than to pause before the door. Just for a moment. She wanted that moment to regain composure, to assess what it was she might want to say, to plan the best way to handle the situation, even to run her fingers through her limp mattered hair so that she didn't feel so much like a scarecrow in front of a goddess. But she had no time.

The poor stable boy she had jumped and ordered to take her to Lady Serrah could decide to break his word at any moment. She suspected it might take him an hour or so to gain the courage. From the look in his eyes Serafina knew she must have look extremely deranged as she held her knife to his throat, giving him strict instructions to do as she asked without a word to another soul - and it had worked in her favour.

So the moment she was shown the door she did not hesitate. Instead she pushed it open and walked boldly through, slamming it behind her as if she were a great warrior, as proud and arrogant as Boromir.

But it was the wrong move. The image of him stopped her in her tracks. Boromir - she had barely spared him a thought. Was it truly only that morning that Legolas had brutally told her that he was dead along with Aragorn? True Aragorn had survived, but Boromir? Could it indeed be true? A whirlwind of feelings rose up in her, from relief to distress and even despair. It was accompanied by a strange emptiness that she couldn't understand.

Mentally she slapped herself. She was standing mid step a foot from the doorway. She lifted her gaze from the floor and locked eyes with deep forest green ones. She could tell that Serrah had seen her falter. She'd shown weakness, and from the look in Serrah's eyes she hadn't missed it. Gritting her teeth she forced herself to focus on what she had come here to do.

Serrah was sitting demurely on a very heavy looking, elaborately carved and upholstered chair. The green velvet of the chair cushions was the same colour as her eyes. The overall effect was staggering. She looked incredibly beautiful in the well lit, elaborately decorated bed chamber. It wasn't until she shook herself that she noticed the cuffs on her wrists looped through the arm of the chair.

"Is there something you wanted?" Serrah asked innocently.

The ridiculousness of the question, coupled with her tone of voice and Serafina's emotional state was too much for the young woman to handle. Serafina walked purposefully towards the older woman, drawing her knife. Violently she pulled the woman's hair back and pressed the blade against her throat.

"Don't play your game with me!" she growled through gritted teeth, her face mere inches from the woman.

Serrah was silent for a moment, but no trace of terror or fear for her life ever crossed her face. Then she started to laugh. It was a musical sound, not unpleasant to the ears, but cunning.

Serafina was so taken aback that she actually took a few steps away from the woman, releasing her from her threat.

"Daughter," she began, still laughing, "Do you really think I haven't had a knife to my throat enough times to call a bluff when I see one?"

Serafina's resolve wavered. But she grasped at it and held on, clawing at it desperately. Serrah seemed to have given up her innocent facade and sat haughty and indifferent before her.

"So it's true? I am your daughter," she asked, planting her feet more firmly.

"I suppose it must be. It is true that I was pregnant in Minas Tirith, in prison, like you said," she answered with a nonchalance that disgusted Serafina. "Not that I expected any daughter of mine to look like this - but I can't deny that under the filth there is a resemblance."

"Does my appearance bother you? I suppose cleanliness is more necessary when you spend your life being looked after by men whose beds you share."

"Men like to look after me," she answered with a shrug and a twisted smile. Suddenly she let out another musical laugh, "I should have guessed it was you. Serafina - I suppose that was Garth, was it? And Arnudor, was that revenge?"

Serafina's scowl deepened, straightening her back she took a step forward. "Yes, Arnudor was revenge," she lied. "Who is Garth?"

Serrah raised an eyebrow at the younger woman, "Don't forget that I know the story of Serafina, the thief child of Gondor. I know what role Garth had to play in getting the little murderer out of prison."

"How do you know?" Serafina demanded.

"That is irrelevant. What isn't irrelevant is your name. I had assumed Garth was tangled up in your plight because of your name. Until today I hadn't entertained the idea that your name is because of Garth."

"I don't understand.

Serrah sighed, "I presumed Garth would be drawn to a child whose name so closely resembled mine. Now I see it must have been him that gave it to you."

"You knew him?"

"So he didn't tell you of me?"

"No." Serafina answered shortly.

Serrah laughed at that revelation. Fed up with the conversation, Serafina turned it to a much more pressing issue.

"So did you know?"

"Did I know what?" she asked, the ghost of her mirth still played across her lips and glinted in her eyes.

"That I was to be drowned?"

Serrah's face turned to stone. It was a moment before she answered, she didn't look Serafina in the eyes. "I never wanted children," she admitted. There was something off in her voice. It crossed Serafina's mind that this was the first glimpse of the real Serrah she'd seen. The open rejection branded her chest like she'd seen farmers brand cattle's rear and she was thoroughly unprepared for what Serrah said next. "Garth did. How did he get you?"

Serafina couldn't take her eyes off the woman in front of her, "He found me in the bulrushes, that's what he told me".

A noise at the door was the only warning she had. Instinct took over and she darted to hide behind the opening door. A man walked in and asked Serrah if there was anything she needed, he would be guarding her for the night. Serrah answered him demurely and smiled. Serafina couldn't stay any longer. With a final glance over her shoulder she fled the room.

Running through the busy halls of the Hornburg, Serafina knew she was completely lost. She contemplated going back to her armoury and hiding like a coward. She slowed to a walk, then stopped, looking for something to show her the way back to her makeshift cell. People moving around her cursed her for blocking the thoroughfare, she ignored them. Would she go back to her cell? She could even chain herself up and pretend nothing had ever happened, pretend she had been left there like a naughty dog put outside for jumping on the furniture. It was very tempting.

A strong, commanding voice broke through her thoughts, but it was not a man's voice. Éowyn stood calling instructions out to various people as they passed. Serafina didn't stay long enough to hear her words, instead she raced for the nearest doorway and disappeared behind it, not wanting to risk Éowyn's eyes falling on her.

The door shut with a bang and Serafina leant against it, letting her head connect with the cool solid wood. The action made a dull thunk. Could it be possible that Garth was her father? Was that what Serrah meant? She cursed herself out loud for her apparent inability to keep her head clear when dealing with her mother.

Someone cleared their throat behind her.

Wheeling around with her eyes wide she wished she'd stayed in the corridor and risked Éowyn's eyes. Gimli met her eyes with an amused look, Legolas kept his face impassive but Aragorn was furious. Her eyes flicked to the door behind her - could she make it out and disappear in the crowded corridors before they would catch her?

Her hand snaked to the door handle but Aragorn was quicker. He crossed the room in two strides and put a large hand on the door, preventing her from leaving. She felt like a mouse caught in a trap, with only herself to blame. She waited for his stern reprimand but it didn't come. He stood over her, looming. Never was she more aware of his physical presence. She could practically feel the tension in his muscles, and with her eyes cast down as they were she saw his fists balled tightly.

"Well, it's good to see you lass," a gruff voice said from across the room, clearly trying to break the icy air. She saw a sharp movement of yellow and green and assumed Legolas gave him a look to silence him. A deep exhale followed, along with the clinking of chain mail; Gimli sat down. That didn't instil her with confidence.

Serafina tried to look inside herself, was she really going to bow to Aragorn's annoyance? Had Serrah affected her so deeply that she had lost all sense of self? A wave of defiance ran through her and her back straightened; it would take more than Serrah to break her. A new fire burning in her eyes, she raised her head to meet Aragorn's gaze. It crossed her mind that she had never seen him quite so angry. His grey eyes looked like terrible storm clouds and his jaw was set firm. He towered over her. Was this the same man who's kisses she had smiled into? A heated blush crept up her neck and into her cheeks as she remembered what she had done during that kiss and how it had led to her freedom. She swallowed and took a deep breath, evidently he was not about to break the silence and she wasn't about to wait forever.

"Hello Aragorn," she said with best attempt at an aloof, detached voice. She thought she heard a groan escape Legolas, but she couldn't decide if it was frustration or exasperation. She didn't dare take her eyes off Aragorn, but he didn't seem inclined to answers. Serafina raised her eyebrows at him in a challenge, again his face remained a stony mask of disapproval. They stood that way for another minute before it obviously became too much for Legolas.

A scathing flow of elvish burst forth from Legolas' lips. After a moment Aragorn released Serafina from his gaze and turned to the elf. She thought she heard her name mentioned in his rant, and Arwen's, but he was speaking too fast to be sure. He did however, gesture to her, but mainly his tone was admonishing and it was directed entirely at Aragorn. Eventually he stopped, intonation rising on his last words. Serafina and Gimli turned their heads instinctively to Aragorn, waiting for his answer.

When Aragorn spoke his tone was humble and considered, but he met Legolas' eyes unerringly. The reply was surprisingly short, perhaps only a fragment of a sentence but the elf was satisfied. Legolas walked towards Serafina and placed a kiss on her brow.

"Take care my friend, it will be a long night," he said. Trying to play down her bafflement at first his rant then his actions, she watched him place a hand on Aragorn's shoulder before embracing him as a brother and leaving the room.

Gimli barely nodded at them before running after the elf.

Aragorn walked a few steps away from her. Serafina somehow felt as though the tables had turned - this time it was him that needed to give the explanation. She steadied herself with a deep breath and stood straighter, ready for whatever it was he would say.

Eventually the man turned back to face her. He passed a hand over his face and exhaled loudly, readying himself too, apparently.

"Serafina, I have not the time to talk this through with you, nor is this the place. But we cannot deceive ourselves any longer," he paused looking for some sign of acknowledgement from her. She stared at him, face impassive. He sighed, but eventually continued, "You were right the other night - this was a mistake. A mistake I should have prevented long ago. You are so young, so vital - at times it is intoxicating, other times it is infuriating. My heart belongs to another. Try as I have, I cannot set her aside so easily. Legolas asked me if it would be enough, knowing that I could never give you what I could give to Arwen. He asked if it was fair to you, for you to always be second in my heart. He asked if I had considered what our future would look like together; would you ever accept me as a husband…" his voice trailed off.

She thought she had prepared herself for all possibilities; she hadn't even battered an eyelid at the mention of Arwen, but she choked at his last word. Husband?! Whatever it was she felt, nothing could have prepared her for the shock of that word. Her visions for the future were limited - and they certainly did not contain a husband. But besides her shock at his words, his meaning could not be plainer - he was done with her.

For what Serafina hoped would be the last time that day her insides were hollowing out. As if the centre of her chest was folding in on itself swallowing everything inside her. Emptiness was filling her. She hadn't expected much from Serrah, but to be rejected by both her and Aragorn in a day was more than she new how to manage. She looked away from his eyes focusing on a point on the wall behind his head.

"But there is more than that," he continued, "You are so young -"

"Yes you said that," she cut in, her voice strangely even. But even as she spoke she felt a flood of anger and spite fill the void within her.

"I feel as though I need to be constantly looking out for you,"

"I am perfectly able to look after myself! I never asked for your protection!" she hissed at him, meeting his eyes again with renewed vigour.

"Yet I bestowed it on you anyway," he reflected, ever calm. "I wanted to protect you, to shield you from a dangerous world," he smiled at her lightly, "now I begin to wonder if it isn't the world that needs protection from you."

She didn't smile at his joke.

They both jumped as the door opened on them. Éomer's head appeared, upon seeing Aragorn he walked into the room. Serafina stayed motionless. Éomer looked between them and cleared his throat loudly.

"Aragorn, the men go to their stations…" he said.

Aragorn nodded, "I will come," he answered, moving towards the door.

"Serafina? I thought I gave Asteard orders to -" Éomer began.

"You did," she said curtly, cutting him off.

"But you're here," he stated.

"I picked the locks," she said, meeting his eyes boldly, deliberately avoiding Aragorn's.

"With what?" asked Aragorn, but she heard the disappointment in his voice.

She could not stand it anymore. She bit back an insane urge to hiss at him like a feral cat, but it did not prevent her nose from turning up and confirming what he already knew with only a snarl as she pulled out the two pins she had pick-pocketed from his belt.

"When?" he asked, but it wasn't a question, it was a prompt to encourage her to seal her own fate and reinforce his earlier sentiments.

"When do you think?" she asked, green eyes flashing, she wanted to hurt him, "You had something I needed, so I took it."

Aragorn looked at her, as if seeing her for the first time. When he spoke it was just above a whisper, "Any way you could,"

She jutted out her chin, "Yes, any way I could,"

Aragorn made for the door. He opened it sharply, but before leaving he turned back to look at Serafina, "I was wrong; your stubbornness, your…" he looked for the word, "vitality," he spat, "it's not just intoxicating, it's toxic."

The door slammed shut behind him.

Serafina stood very, very still. And slowly, ever so slowly the word settled on her like a feather settling on snow. Toxic. Never had she though Aragorn capable of such cruel words. Toxic. She was toxic. Could she have said equally cruel things to him? Certainly, in fact she probably had. But Aragorn?! A grim thought bubbled into her mind; yes she was toxic - she had poisoned Aragorn. She was toxic, and she was spreading.

She closed her eyes. If she hadn't been so eager to escape Éowyn's notice, would she have escaped this? Her chin slowly sank. Éowyn… the name niggled in her mind. Éomer!

Instantly her eyes snapped open and she looked at the horse lord. She opened her mouth to make a joke about a lover's quarrel but it stuck in her throat and she choked the words down.

Éomer walked towards her slowly, but there was no apprehension in his gaze.

"Chin up," he commanded. She lifted her chin at his request but the gesture felt empty. "The day is not over yet. Surely you won't let a little lover's quarrel affect you so?"

A lump rose in Serafina's throat. She glared at him as best she could behind her watery eyes. She could not fathom how he deemed it appropriate to make fun of her at a time like this!

"Hmm," he frowned deeply, comprehending her meaning, "Yes, I'll admit it might be too soon for jokes. My apologies. So, little prisoner, what am I to do with you now that you're free?"

Defeated, Serafina pulled her cuffs from her belt-pouch. She held them up to him. Éomer's eyes danced between her wrists and the cuffs.

"I think not," he said, pulling them out of her hands. "Come. If you are not to be put in a cage, I will put you to use!" With that he walked out the door. Serafina tried to stand a little straighter and followed him. Hopefully the night would pass quickly.

He lead her through winding corridors of dark grey stone. They were eerily empty compared to how they had been minutes before. Occasionally they passed someone running in this direction or that. The air became cooler the further they went and the smell of rain assailed her. Serafina took a deep breath, tasting the sweet cold promise it brought. They rounded into a long corridor that was actually a very long balcony of sorts, Éomer stopped and went to speak to a hard looking woman with wind beaten skin and sun bleached hair. Serafina cast a glance about the room; makeshift cots and stretchers lined both the solid wall of the keep and the chest high stone wall that half enclosed the side facing out to the battlements. Pillars running along the balcony wall held a roof above them. Out into the night she could see thousands of black shapes marching towards them. The sea of dark shapes was smattered with the odd bight spark of flaming torches. Forgetting herself she went to the edge and looked down at the battlements, it was not difficult to see that the men of Rohan were ridiculously outnumbered - there were at least three times as many of the enemy than of the Rohirrim.

Before long Éomer joined her and looked down at the impending battle.

"Healer Galen has accepted my offer of your assistance,"

"What do you mean?" she asked absent-mindedly wondering if she could see any of those she knew out on the battlements.

"Many of her usual assistants are needed in the caves, some are too frightened to be of any use," he answered darkly. But his grim tone was lost on Serafina. As her eye scanned the scene before her, she tried desperately to forget the bitter words that had past between herself and Aragorn. But it was no use. Her despair was slowly giving way to exhaustion and no small amount of self pity.

"I don't understand," she said in a defeated voice, looking at him for the first time.

"You are to assist Healer Galen here in triage. She has only a small team, and an extra pair of hands to care for the injured and dying will be of great assistance," his tone was final. It was very clear to Serafina that he expected no argument.

"You're joking," she said flatly.

"Do I look like I'm joking?" he asked her. She had to admit that he most certainly did not; his dark brown eyes were steely and his expression was incredibly stern.

"I cannot do this!" Panic began to rise - she felt it pumping through her.

"Why? You are still standing. There are boys out there, barely more that half your age with pitchforks for pikes and swords as blunt as butter knives! And they do not question their duty,"

She let go of the wall and faced him, shaking with fury, and fear. "But this is not my duty!" she screeched at him.

"Then maybe you should redefine your place in this world," he said in his dark, deep voice.

Serafina breathed in the rain and felt her resolve failing. As quickly as her rage had ignited it had disappeared, like a spark from a fire, burning bright and then gone. How could she make him see how broken she felt? True, he was a stranger but he had seen enough of her over the pas few days to understand what she had been through.

"Look at me," she whispered desperately.

Could he not see that she was exhausted to her soul? She could barely keep herself standing, let alone expend her energy caring for others.

"I see you," he said seriously, as if he had heard her thoughts. His voice was firm and not uncaring but it was hard as stone, "And I see your world crumbling around you. But we fight for the walls of the keep - so that they may not fall, so that our people remain safe, if only for a little while longer. We fight for the sunrise, because there may be a day soon when the sun does not rise and the sky turns black though it is not night. We fight in the hope that this is not the last battle! That we might see an end to these desperate times!"

Serafina looked at him, she had the feeling that she was downing in a sea of despair and the Marshall was throwing her a lifeline, but he could not pull her out, she had to save herself. It would be easier to drown, easier to stop, easier to give in. To hope, to fight - it would be difficult, it would be dirty, it held no guarantee of success. But in his face she saw grit, determination and a refusal to bow to the hopeless circumstances.

"Will you help us?" he asked her. His tone was not desperate, but it was deeply grave. "The people of Rohan are proud, we will stand tall and firm. We will fight to the bitter end - for ourselves and for you."

Something tugged at her heart; tonight, for one night she could belong to something bigger than herself. She looked over her shoulder at the stern faced woman. It was true, she stood straight, and though her face was grim it was not defeated. Turning back to the Marshall she lifted her chin and straightened her spine.

"I will help you," she declared, her voice firm and her eyes as grave as his.

He nodded at her, but did not smile. "Pray for a sunrise," he said and without another look he left her standing in the windy corridor.

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